In the circus

 Oh the distance I travel in my car

Is not as far as I go on my guitar

In the circus

And the lamp posts and telegraphs 

They raised

Are just like crazy paving

Another sign of the days

In the circus

And if I could talk to any cat

Who walked down the road

I'd probably mention that 

In the circus

And a picture of blue sky and waves

Was drawing in my mind

Like some crazy craves

In the circus

But near or far

I don't think so much of high or flat

Just the plans of the government and that

In the circus

Wonderland

 Are you going to the Wonderland?

Are you going my way?

For I wish to be there

For as long as I can 

oh

Are you going to stay?

Can you take me in your hand

Can you show me the way

I want to visit the Wonderland

I want to go down that way

Life is dreary and I can't stand

The traffic of the highway

And the leaves are falling

and turning brown

I don't want to go down that way

So if you visit the Wonderland

Be sure to bring me along

For I have a wish on the stars and the sand

That in time I will be strong

Enough to stay in your Wonderland

Vice Versa

 Vice versa

A song about an anvil

Oh hard lump

Hardest of metal chunks

Beaten on daily

The hammer head

How can you take the pounding?

The ringing in your ears

Must be astounding

What a vice!, What a virtue!

What a curse! What a curfew!

To be tied down

Screwed to the bench

Just to know you can never wrench free

But you look over to your cousin

In Engineering

The vice,

What advice would you give he?

He is always under pressure

Never a go getter

But always a setting free

Please release me

The wood and metal cry out!

I can't I can't

The vice says back

With mouth filled

Lock jaw

Jaundiced

Bulldog grip

Snap shut

Break its jaw with

A gun butt

Oh no

A bullet wouldn't do it

A lead sandwich

Soft

And you can hear the Anvil ringing again

Always engaged

Talking in the sound and fury

The inane beating of the hammer stroke

Progress it says

Is second nature

Produce

Secure

Resound and stay

Safe

Close to the furnace

Bellows pumping

And iron thumping

Like a beating heart

The hearth and heart

Of home

Back home

 Oh potatoes rotting

And this western town

Asses swaying and cussed pockets

The slamming of car doors rubber and metal

A humming 

That probably a good thing to do when its not a very nice day

No I am not saying that there is an Egyptian living down stairs

But she sure worships that dog man

Dogman or mandog,

I am not even sure if he isn't a doggod

 God dog it, I mean dagnam it or man dag it

She has got all men out of her life except Him

And the tree next door is in blossom, well it is hanging its fruits

It is near mid July

And the pollen is high 

and its scent wafts through my window

The sun is long in the sky 

and hangs there mellow

Like it is sad to go down

And put an end to all this beauty

this summer of loving

Oh now I'm getting carried away in sentiment

The runner jogs on 

Another car passes

The martial arts combatants leave for the evening

After beating themselves up and each other

In the gym

In the dance hall of horrors

So much like a timeless

Beating box 

that is incessantly drummed with the

pounding and tapping of feet - little and large

the footprints stay there.

This is the third age of man

The forties

I am back on home turf,

Although not totally home

It is now quickly becoming my home

I am sinking back into British life

and it is absorbing me

It is beautiful this time of year

The pigeons or crows flap in the boughs

And rearrange their positions I suppose

 

don't give up

Don't give up
For you are loved
Across the plain, the field

Don't give up
Lift on wings of a dove
Its just the way that you feel

These wheels keep on turning
The seasons keep returning
The world resolves
And our problems are solved
By day turning into dark
From the dark you must come out into light


Don't give up
Every breath must be a fight
Every day a struggle against death
Tell death to fuck off
Don't give up
Don't give up

All things pass
The summer wine
In the glass
Soon must be supped
But cast your net
Feel the sea sway
Hold tight the mast
In the storm
The new day will bring
Peace of mind

The tune to sing

Where are the tunes
That I heard you sing?
Summer comes down the street
Birdies tweet in the tree
Where are those tunes
I used to hear you sing?

Ah they're coming back
On the tide
On the new sun rising
They are the silver lining
Of the clouds on my horizon
And I can hear you sing

Well its two tunes for my life
One for my money one for my wife
And I know its funny honey
You can still sing that tune for me

Timpani no more

 How do you do?

Are you in the soup too?

How does it feel to be me?

Well how does it feel to be you?

Are you waking up sideways with your head in a cupboard

Are your ears like an attic

Where bats are recovered

Do you sweep cobwebs or webcobs

Do you chew tobacco sweet stacco

Are you stuck in the middle bracket

Income packet,

Under the living wage, or between the lines

On the living page

Of life's book

The devil's in the detail, but he lives to be on stage

And who should know better

Than the deep blue sea

Who could know better than you and me?

The words I wished I had written were caught in the trap

Of the unforgiven, and smitten, by folly, sore blades 

In sacks, holding a brolly to the the radio shack

And firing nicely the cannons' report

Oh reads the daily results on the sport

Slow tambres coming and an ice cream van

Calling out its sombre, sombrero lifespan

Its always summer in the north pole

And he will serve your soul flakey

Or dipped in petrol

And lice are crawling up the road

Carrying icicles of pericles

And shoulders of pork are still to be cured

But legs of lamb have been broken

If ever softly heard