1. |
Old Man In A Hurry
02:05
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OLD MAN IN A HURRY
See the old man. What’s he doing?
Just what end is he pursuing?
See him rush and see him scurry,
See the old man in a hurry.
See the old man look defeated,
So much work still uncompleted.
See the old man all down-hearted,
So much work he’s still not started.
See him stress the way he oughtn’t.
It’s not as if his work’s important.
But still he’ll fret and still he’ll worry,
See the old man in a hurry.
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2. |
Oh, I Know
03:43
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OH, I KNOW
The snooker-ball swings in the sock,
I’ve fashioned a shiv from a spoon,
I’ve put superglue in the lock,
The fun will be kicking-off soon.
Oh, I know, but I don’t care.
You care, but you don’t know.
I go, but I don’t like.
You’d like, but you don’t go.
My new book will settle his hash,
My pencil is worn to a stub,
He’ll get no more government cash,
He’ll have to resign from the club.
Oh, I know, but I don’t care.
You care, but you don’t know.
I go, but I don’t like.
You’d like, but you don’t go.
I’m ready when push comes to shove,
I’ve climbed a convenient tree,
I’ll drop on his head from above,
I’ll eat him before he eats me.
Oh, I know, but I don’t care.
You care, but you don’t know.
I go, but I don’t like.
You’d like, but you don’t go.
I show, but I don’t sell.
It’s hell when you don’t show.
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3. |
Four Pails
04:11
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FOUR PAILS
Four pails of water, and a bagful of salts...
Four pails of water, and a bagful of salts...
That is all we are,
That is all a man comprises,
Chemicals alone,
With no spirit, soul or ghost.
Nothing so bizarre!
And no amount of faith disguises,
What is true is what we fear the most.
Nothing can survive, save the things
Men leave behind them.
Any other case would be really too absurd!
If thoughts remained alive,
Surely modern science could find them?
But no; the soul is nothing but a word.
All the wonders Man achieves
Emerge from cerebral tissue.
Chemical reactions’ ebb and surge
Form that thing that is you.
It’s a sad philosophy,
But better sad than wrong.
Face the truth instead;
When you’re dead, you’re dead,
When you’re gone, you’re gone.
Now she’s gone, she’s gone.
Four pails of water, and a bagful of salts…
That is all she was;
Everything she represented...
And that sounds as mad
As saying she will never die.
Fools will clutch at straws,
But truth must not be circumvented.
‘As the tree falls, so must that tree lie.’
Now that sounds so odd,
But once I would have preached it brightly.
Now questions appear
I rationally can’t ignore.
Nothingness or God,
Which of them seems more unlikely?
Once I could have answered clearly,
Now I only think I’m nearly sure.
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4. |
Drop Me A Line
03:59
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DROP ME A LINE
Standing by my bed at midnight
Wish I’d not agreed we wouldn’t phone.
I believed you when you told me
You just need more space, and time alone.
You said I should keep you posted
So every day I email and I text.
I’ve sent letters, I’ve sent postcards,
Nothing from you, one day to the next.
Drop me a line. Drop me a line.
Drop me a line. Drop me a line.
Standing on the deck at midnight
In despair I look back at the shore.
I have reached the sad conclusion
I can’t live without you anymore.
But soon as I’ve jumped overboard
And hear the boat is leaving me behind,
Death don’t seem quite so attractive.
Is it too late to change my mind?
Throw me a line. Throw me a line.
Throw me a line. Throw me a line.
Standing on the stage at midnight
Wish I’d not agreed to play these shows.
‘Been so long since I sung this song
Can’t remember how the next verse goes.
Friend of mine is out in front,
So I come off the mic,
Kneel down and shout,
‘Hey, man, you know my songs backwards.
Do you think that you could help me out?’
Give me the line. Give me the line.
Give me the line. Give me the line.
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5. |
Neither Here Nor There
04:26
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NEITHER HERE NOR THERE
I’m in the Day Room
In the high-backed hygienic chair.
Someone wants to ask me questions.
He ticks a box and reads them
From a clipboard questionnaire.
“What is your name?”, he says.
I’d like to say, “I neither know nor care”.
But why should they know that,
So instead I say “My name, young man,
Is neither here nor there.”
I’m in the Day Room
In the high-backed hygienic chair.
This nice couple come to see me.
She calls me ‘Dad’,
I seem to recognise them from somewhere.
They think I’m sleeping, but I hear her say, “He’s not all there...”
The man agrees, “You’re right,
He’s not all here...”
It’s true, of course,
I’m neither here nor there.
There’s a box somewhere
With all my memories,
And all of them are
Bright and fresh and clean.
And one day soon, I’ll take them out
And I’ll arrange them,
And play them back
And see what they all mean.
I’m in the Day Room
In the high-backed hygienic chair.
The walls grow thin and fall away
And there’s a river and, beyond,
There is a landscape broad and fair.
And, on the far shore,
Friends that wait for me.
They wait because they care.
I try to cross but only get halfway.
I’m in between, I’m neither here nor there.
My friends have got the box
with all my memories.
And all of them are
Bright and fresh and clean
And one day soon,
I’ll take them out and I’ll arrange them
And play them back
And see what they all mean.
But for now, I’m in between
Of both worlds I am partially aware.
I’m in transit. I’m neither here nor there.
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6. |
Bongo Cosh Boys
02:57
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BONGO COSH BOYS
Let me take you to dine
At the Bongo Club
Where the music’s so fine.
They’ll be playing our song
And we’ll take my
‘Edmundo Ross’ bongos along.
And while we are eating
My bongos are beating
With love for you.
Hold my bongos, baby, while I dance.
Hold my bongos, baby, while I dance...
So give them a hand.
‘The Bongo Cosh Boys’
Are a marvelous band.
They may look rather rough
But when it comes to Mambo,
The Boys know their stuff.
Their trumpets are sounding
My bongos are pounding
With love for you.
Hold my bongos, baby, while I dance.
Hold my bongos, baby, while I dance...
Bongo! Bongo!
We are the Boys
The Boys from the Bongo.
Boys of the Bongo Cosh!...
Boys of the Bongo Cosh!...
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7. |
Barcarolle
06:33
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BARCAROLLE
Floating about on the tide,
Drifting and dreaming, with you by my side.
Floating about on the bay,
Everything’s fine so there’s nothing to say.
Heads full of nothing float better that way.
Drifting about in the boat.
Let go the rudder,
Who cares where we float.
Drifting about on the sea,
Makes the world seem
Pretty perfect to me.
Silent in sunlight, you seem to agree.
Underneath the waves
It’s cold and getting colder,
Rocks, dead fish and mud
They’re old and getting older
Teeny-weeny shells
And bones in combination
Teeth and scales and spines
The claws of dead crustaceans...
The setting sun’s sinking down low
If we had a yard-arm, it would be below,
So pour us a bloody great gin
The ice and the tonic can’t wait to jump in.
The lemon is smiling his broad yellow grin.
That’s when we fell over-board,
Missing those lifebelts we couldn’t afford.
Drowning’s quite peaceful and slow,
There must be dozens of worse ways to go.
Now there’s an octopus eating my toe.
Underneath the waves
It’s cold and getting colder,
Rocks, dead fish and mud
They’re old and getting older
Teeny-weeny shells
And bones in combination
Teeth and scales and spines
The claws of dead crustaceans...
Floating about on a cloud,
The star-fish and squid
Are a sociable crowd.
The cod can be grumpy it’s true,
But a choir of small shellfish
Are singing for you.
If this isn’t Heaven, I’m sure it will do.
Weeberlee weeberlee woo woo woo…
Weeberlee weeberlee woo…
That’s the little shellfish singing…
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8. |
Mad Daggers
02:35
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MAD DAGGERS
Mad Daggers at rehearsal,
Mad Daggers at the tiffin hour,
Siege engines have been sent
Against the walls,
The parking lot is throbbing
With a horrid power.
The sequestered women
Require some entertainment.
We pay the policeman and he goes away.
Mad Daggers
Have not played this gig before,
The Non-Commissioned Officers
Make holiday.
A rumour that the rations will be cut
Has spread like ink
In this tight hive of the fever-ville,
And will God save our wild knives?
He might of course,
But no one thinks he really will.
Mad Daggers at the party,
Bad staggers at the church parade,
And someone screaming in a secret place
“Look, Mummy, look!
See the clever thing I’ve made!”
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9. |
Cooee
05:12
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COOEE
Cooee... Cooee...
I hear voices call,
I look down the hall,
There’s no-one at all I can see.
Cooee... Cooee...
I climb the stair,
There’s nobody there,
No-one anywhere, a mystery.
Cooee... Cooee...
Somehow I know that these
Voices are calling to me.
Cooee... Cooee...
Oh how I’ve tried
To find where they hide,
But they don’t decide to be found.
Cooee... Cooee...
Sometimes the cry
Seems to come from the sky
Sometimes seems to rise from the ground.
Cooee... Cooee...
I’ve never heard such an eerie and troubling sound.
Are they imaginary?
Are they a trick of my mind?
Is this what you hear when your sanity Starts to unwind?
Cooee... Cooee...
That seems so near
Just an inch from my ear
But there’s nobody here to be seen.
Cooee... Cooee...
The voices still come,
They hum and they strum,
Insistent, but somehow serene.
Cooee... Cooee...
Are they from this world, the next world,
Or somewhere between?
Show yourselves! You must show yourselves!
Show yourselves now!...
Show yourselves! You must show yourselves!
Show yourselves now!...
Here we are. Now you see.
And now I understand...
Here we are. Now you see.
And now I understand...
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10. |
Do The Rock'n'Roll
04:40
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DO THE ROCK’N’ROLL
I only have an elderly white man’s voice....
I only have an elderly white man’s soul....
I have to use the things I’ve got,
Can’t play at being what I’m not,
But welcome to The Land That Time Forgot
Where we still try to do the Rock’n’Roll.
In San Francisco I heard strange music
As the Summer of Love
Spiralled out of control.
But I thought, ‘Here is a kind of art
In which I could well play a part.’
When I came home, I vowed to start
To try to do the Rock’n’Roll.
My old reel-to-reel tapes will no longer play
Their music has decayed to toxic dust.
My cheap, disposable cassettes
Still work okay,
As does my cheap, disposable intellect,
If only just.
My catalogue has been described as quirky,
And my music isn’t strident on the whole.
And some of my work is slow and light,
With no guitars or drums in sight,
But I think that it sounds alright,
To me it all just sounds like Rock’n’Roll.
These old, tattered chord sheets
Are meaningless.
The songs are lost,
I can’t remember when or where.
Too long ago,
And my memory’s not the best.
The past is another country,
It’s Red List, not safe to travel there.
These days, I find the work
Takes more out of me,
As time takes its inevitable toll.
And perhaps I’ve never done it well,
‘Cause, Heaven knows, it doesn’t sell,
But somehow I still feel compelled
To try to do the Rock’n’Roll.
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JUDGE SMITH Glastonbury, UK
Judge Smith co-founded the band Van der Graaf Generator in 1967 with Peter Hammill, & has since been involved in many music projects as writer, composer or performer. He has written stage musicals, classical & rock libretti, songs for television & a book on Life after Death; directed a prize-winning short film, & released fourteen CDs & two DVDs. He was born in 1948 & lives near Glastonbury, UK. ... more
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