Sad Old Ram of the Mountains

                


                                the sheep may safely graze

Links to Lyrics 

GREEN WORLD WARS  
SAD OLD RAM  OF THE  MOUNTAINS 

THIS COLD HOUSE

             THE RUNAWAY BRAIN                                                   

THE ONE TOOTH MAN CAROL

foundry labour work song
DUSK WOMAN  OF THE PRESELI MOUNTAINS

DADA DOLE BLUES

HALLELUJAH I'M A BUM

SACRIFICE (LOVED AND LOST IT)

LOST IT

[Titles Below Link to Ogg Audio downloads]

GREEN WORLD WARS                                     

 

  

If you would travel to Africa,

    Be sure to catch the high tide!

If you should make it to Africa,

    Be sure to see my lady!

Tell her the White King swept the board!

    Tell her the war is over!

Tell her I'm waiting by the sea,

    Trying to find an answer!

  

  

CHORUS

O the days were short and the nights were free

    In the Green Queen's court.

And the dancing girls brushed the tapestries

    And beat their tambourines.

And then the White King made his move,

    Sent in computer mercenaries,

Cut through the palace walls of oak,

    Felled the green towers with laser beams

Then giant bulldozers razed  meadows into dust

    And the countryside was squared in barbed wire grids

And the badgers were all gassed inside their earthy lairs

    Because the White King won

Meeting the Green Queen in Africa,

    Take her my ocarina,

As she dances to the talking drums,

    Give her my farewell story.

Tell her I live in damp sea caves,

    Dodging the robot cliff patrols,

Watching the sea birds skim the skies,

    Crying for peace like freezing souls.

CHORUS

O the days were short and the nights were free etc.

        

So now the tongues of men will shrivel in their heads,

    Their twisted heads will hang with no words to tell,

Of the sea cow or the dolphin or the great blue whale,

    Because the White King won.

SAD OLD RAM  OF THE  MOUNTAINS  (instrumental)


 

 

 

 

                                

THIS COLD HOUSE

 

This cold house is naff mock gothic, this cold house is old and grey,

    Filled by bellowing lunatics and suits with too much pay,

This house is by the river and it sells you down it too

    The alcoholic liver fuels many a row and stew

Ain’t gonna need this house no longer

        Ain’t gonna heed it’s words

No time to put a cross down or reform the House of Lords

          Ain’t got time to mess around with a fake democracy

This house is just a landfill stuffed with sick plutocracy

  

This house is full of bullies and sleek male chauvinist pigs
          Whips and Rods and Spin-Doctors and Pompous Gits in Wigs
Power drunk machine politicians, when sacked never missed,
          Labour turns to Tory, Tory to fascist

 

Ain’t gonna need this house no longer

          Ain’t gonna heed it’s words

No time to put a cross down or reform the House of Lords

          Ain’t got time to mess around with a fake democracy

This house is just a landfill stuffed with sick plutocracy

  

This house is just a rubber stamp for dictatorial style
              The spectre of New Labour sports a phosphorescent smile
          Attacks on refugees and welfare boost prosperity
                Concentration camps and war crimes bring security,

  

Ain’t gonna need this house no longer

          Ain’t gonna heed it’s words

No time to put a cross down or reform the House of Lords

          Ain’t got time to mess around with a fake democracy

This house is just a landfill stuffed with sick plutocracy

  

This house hands out the pay rise to the pumped up windbag ass
          Whose political hothouse globally warms up green arse gas
It fights for rights for profiteers; it fights to please fat cats
        It rats on paupers, old folk, wage slaves, green aliens in flats

  

Ain’t gonna need this house no longer

          Ain’t gonna heed it’s words

No time to put a cross down or reform the House of Lords

          Ain’t got time to mess around with a fake democracy

This house is just a landfill stuffed with sick plutocracy

 

            

                         

 

 

  

  

THE RUNAWAY BRAIN

  

(times wingèd chariot …shan’t be rahnd tommorah!)

   

      

        the runaway brain went down the hill and she blew
the runaway brain went down the hill and she blew

          the runaway brain went down the hill
and for all I care she's running still

         

          and she blew girls blew girls blew

  

          the faculties flew of the rails and she blew
the faculties flew of the rails and she blew
          the faculties flew of the rails
scrawling slimy trails like snails

         

          and she blew girls blew girls blew

  

          the left  side thinks it's nearly always right
the right side thinks it's nearly always wrong
          the wrong half is my better half
she always spares the fatted calf

        

 

          and she blew girls blew girls blew

         

                the higher centres crumble in the fire
        the higher centres crumble in the fire
                the higher centres are a joke
        they issue forth as holy smoke

         

          and she blew girls blew girls blew

  

          frying saucer brain pan full speed ahead
frying saucer brain pan full speed ahead

          the piston clangs the whistle screams
she roars off coupling in her dreams

         

          and she blew girls blew girls blew

  

          the runaway brain went down the hill and she blew
the runaway brain went down the drain and she blew
          the last I heard she was doing well
steamed like a dragon straight to hell

         

          and she blew girls blew girls blew

 

                                         

  

THE ONE TOOTH MAN CAROL

  

 

Home fires burning in the Shires
          Send carbon gas up to the heavenly choirs,
And Katy takes her only child of five
          To Save the Children in her four wheel drive.
Shopkeepers, as the boom years fail,

Hark the hard right demons sing!

          Midst toothless people one tooth man is king!

  

As Dentists flee the National Health
        To practice medicine for private wealth,
The rotten teeth of Britain’s poor
        Chatter in the market’s open door.
The Rich spend on without regret:

        Ring out wild bells for credit card debt

Hark the hard right demons sing!

        Midst toothless people one tooth man is king!

   

    

Now children play with Christmas zest;
          No corporate logo on small uniformed breast.
Soon the global profit ghoul
        Will haunt the future of the sponsored school,
Will profiteer from jails, kids, mail,
          From our water, phone lines, fuel and rail.

Hark the hard right demons sing!

          Midst toothless people one tooth man is king!

  

The smiley spin-doctors rejoice:
          Democracy will lose its voice.
Give me fast food fascism to go,
          With consumerism and no need to know!
Cops will arrest you if they just suspect your acts,
          While our cock-eyed media blur the facts.

Hark the hard right demons sing!

          Midst toothless people one tooth man is king!

  

Though Infinite Justice bloodily fights,
          Let’s drain a glass to Human Rights!
Right to silence? Double jeopardy?
          Habeas corpus? Trial by jury?
When Freedom’s hurt by a suicide bomber,
          Let’s build a police state fit for misled martyrs!

Hark the hard right demons sing!

          Midst toothless people one tooth man is king!

  

 [coda in dodgy French]

  

Anges Héraldiques ou sans vous ?

  

Anges Héraldiques chantent pour nous!

  

Anges Héraldiques au secours!

  

Diables fascistes tuent toujours !

 

Diables fascistes font la guerre.

  

Diables fascistes merde alors !

  


  

  

  

  

                                                                          

                  

                                                        


  

foundry labour work song

foundry labour work song
twelve hours every day
that and working week end mornings
twenty five pounds pay

  

early as the day breaks
bash soot from the moulds
dying daily for the tea breaks
cheese and bacon rolls

  

i was a young navy
innocent and green
once i left a tap on
and flooded a big machine

  

this man is a strong man
no weight defeats him
lifts a lamppost like a dumbbell
just to keep in trim

  

once a mould exploded
as we poured hot metal in
set my cap and hair on fire
the red iron burned my skin

  

my handkerchief was set on fire
a spark went up my nose
the strong man laughed said lift the shank
so on the pouring goes

  

bouncing molten red iron
strikes you eats your flesh
faded scars in shower rooms
but this burn’s bright and fresh

  

empty out the mouldings
bash this damp soot trough
water gas inside my lungs
i never lost the cough

  

heavy metal rainbow
incandescent fan
master plan how can we tell
the manhole from the man

  

 

  

  


 

 

 

DUSK WOMAN  OF THE PRESELI MOUNTAINS

  

Two round cairns on Foeldrygarn, her stone

          Breasts.

                      Now she's below the mountain, in that lone

Voice of hornèd anguish, fenced off from her calf.

  

See a mist pelisse on her rangy flanks, an half

          Developed Preseli Isis, she flickers into flight,

Now a flash-tailed coney, lost in the phantom light.

 

 


DADA DOLE BLUES

  

Mother Dole I'd have no tea

      without the bread you give to me

sweet culture of dependency

  

Brother Dole you free my soul

      from living hell of sweat shop role,

to fiddle through life like Old King Cole

  

Sister Dole's kind milky chest

      (her bosom cradles me in rest

with handouts governed by means test)

  

Uncle Dole leads me a dance

      to sign on in a welfare trance

to cash my scrounger's inheritance

  

Auntie Dole brings equal pay

      (for waged, unwaged, fat cat and stray,

none cheat the Planet's Judgment Day)

  

Father Dole rules poor means crimes

      to scrounge the time to scrawl these rhymes

in trainee neo-fascist times



HALLELUJAH I'M A BUM

  

     

I’m One Finger Ellis
I can’t afford bail
I’m scratching this song

on the walls of my jail

Hallelujah I'm a bum
Hallelujah bum again
Hallelujah give us a handout
To revive us again

When spring time has come
O won't we have fun
We'll git out of jail

And we'll go on the bum

Hallelujah I'm a bum etc.

O why don't you work
Like other men do
How the hell can I work

When the sky is so blue

Hallelujah I'm a bum etc.               


  

O why don't you save
All the money you earn
 Well if I didn't eat,
 I'd have money to burn

Hallelujah I'm a bum etc

But I loved my old boss
And my old boss loved me,
The firm made a loss,
Made me work there for free.





Hallelujah I'm a bum etc.


 

I went to a house
 And I knocked on the door
The lady said `Arsehole
 You been here before.'

Hallelujah I'm a bum etc.

.

I called on another
And asked for some bread
The lady says `Arsehole
The baker is dead.'

Hallelujah I'm a bum etc.


 

I'll ride the box cars
And hop the fast mails
When it's cold in the winter
I'll sleep in the jails.

Hallelujah I'm a bum etc..


I went to a bar
And I asked for a drink,
They gave me a glass
And they showed me the sink.





Hallelujah I'm a bum etc.


Someday a freight train
Will run over my head
And the sawbones will say
`Old One Finger's Dead'

Hallelujah I'm a bum etc.

.


                                               

  

                       

                           

SACRIFICE (LOVED AND LOST IT)

  

it never happened like they tell you when you read the true romances,
you spurned my poems, broke my heart and then you made me eat boiled crow,
i couldn't take you in a car to all your films, pubs, parties, dances,
spent all my money on you and had nowhere left to go.

 

her feelings are all show
unheeding fickle clay
she shuffles decks of rainbows and she only wants to play
now the shit’s hit the fan i must die like a man
and now lie on the butcher’s slab bleeding

  

your ivory skin, your diamond eyes and all you want is entertaining,
spend your days in second hand shops, dress like Venus on the dole,
i want you badly but my face no longer fits your crowded evening,
singing to you from the heart I guess you haven't got much soul.

  

her feelings are all show
unheeding fickle clay
she shuffles decks of rainbows and she only wants to play
now the shit’s hit the fan i must die like a man
and now lie on the butcher’s slab bleeding

  

so now I leave you to men's flattery and gossip mongering friendships,
to the culture vulture movies of your drugged consumer scene,
memories o bitter sweet, a kiss from honeysuckle lips,
wise to drop me sweetheart 'cos you don't know where I've been.


unheeding she has gone, there's nothing left to tell,
a pitcher must drop deeper to draw water from the well
now the shit’s hit the fan i must die like a man
and now lie on the butcher’s slab bleeding

[instrumental solo]

  

so i’m in her bad books
fight an oil war for crooks
and i still do not know
why my  face doesn’t fit

let it go! let it go!
loved and lost it

 

LOST IT (acapella vocal)


prophet trousered records
   Mountain top, field recordings of left field roots music.
 A not for profit project, music distributed for free
*Entire project conceived, written, recorded and performed by Mount Bermo Timbo (T. E. Davies). The licence encourages you to copy and distribute the album freely as you find it, with the complete unedited text, music or  images on the web page.  You just say who the author is when you distribute the work.
*If there is a problem with download time, it’s fair use to send out a favourite picture, or a track or two, with its complete unedited web page and licence to friends.  
*The text is at the heart of the work, and I don't really distinguish between songs and poetry.  I'd really be pleased if the music is distributed with the lyrics and the  album images. I can't see why  anybody would listen to my stuff, if they weren't  interested in the lyrics.
*It's also fair, I feel, to copy and play your selection of tracks on your own portable MP3 player, if it supports the Ogg Vorbis format. I'd be very flattered if people wanted to download and distribute the entire work, with all the music and text, but it's not practical for everybody just for personal use! 
*The licence is about common sense, mutual respect and the non-commercial spirit of the thing: after all ultimately, it's supposed to be fun!
*Distributed by Mount Bermo  Timbo (T. E. Davies) 2008, on a Non-commercial Creative Commons Licence 2.0 [See below for conditions of distribution]
 
*Not for resale, materials may be distributed performed and enjoyed freely for love and not  money by  community, educational, therapeutic  or public spirited projects and people.
*[A  sister label Ragged Trousered Recordsexists for charitable fund raising  projects.]  



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