Sea Song to a Phantom Fiddler
Links to Lyrics
SEASIDE B SIDE ~ (instrumental)
LOVELORN BLUES ~ (instrumental)
RETURN OF THE BIG BAD TWO-TOED STEREOPHONIC SLOTH
GUANTANAMO BAY BLUES
HOLY SHUFFLING BANJOS BATMAN! IT'S THE PILGRIM! ~ (instrumental)
[Links
below,
for Ogg Vorbis Downloads]
one day I took a walk down to old harry
where craggy fangs jut from the sea.
legions of gulls flocked all over those cliff tops
whitened the green cliffs I walked o'er
why were they staring at me
yea crying off at my approach.
when hordes might fly at me
dig claws in my flesh
peck at sight's wincing orbs
carry remains of a man over oceans
o'er punishing surges,
to swell of the billows to wails from the deep
Chorus
to the sea to the sea
the sea which is coming to me
it tells me you're paying the price
it tells me you're paying my price
to the sea to the sea
the sea which is flooding up to me
you're paying the price for the sunrise
for after the sunset comes darkness
darkness darkness darkness
darkness darkness darkness
making my way to a place called caerfai
where a red sandstone gash veins the stone
further along the sands two rocky pillars
one forms a natural throne
sitting high up there I wonder
has anyone sat here before
a celtic coast watchman
who scanned the horizon
for long ships of sea wolves
afloat on caresurges
suddenly out on the curve of the whalesway
a snarling beaked prow might appear on the sea
Chorus
on the sea on the sea
the sea which is coming to me
it tells me you're paying the price
it tells me you're paying my price
to the sea to the sea
the sea which is flooding up to me
you're paying the price for the sunrise
for after the sunset comes darkness
darkness darkness darkness
darkness darkness darkness
i took a stroll down to caerbwdy bay
where purple stones basked on the beach
cathedral cliffs carved in aztec slab features
stood just beyond the sea's reach
there at the edge of the tide line
which frolicked and lapped at my feet
this melody freely ran into my head
as phantom white sea horses
rose up, then vanished deep
wed to the glistering skin of the flood
while the sound waves I heard
in my blood, could be seen
in cannon pulsed breakers of musical sea
Chorus
in the sea in the sea
the sea which is coming to me
it tells me you're paying the price
it tells me you're paying my price
to the sea to the sea
the sea which is flooding up to me
you're paying the price for the sunrise
for after the sunset comes darkness
darkness darkness darkness
darkness darkness darkness
SEASIDE B SIDE ~ (instrumental)
LOVELORN BLUES ~ (instrumental)
(and the ensuing eternal torment of Mount Bermo Timbo) ~ (poetry and drums)
the rising sun posts a sunbeam in a letter the letter discusses
how to square the circle the letter also contains the moon &
stars the missive is delivered to the world bird who nests
above jupiter jupiter has several moons who have a
discussion in which they decide to create a new world
these creative moons take a dollop of class one
nothing wearing a bowler hat from out of a black
hole all things are possible in this best of all
possible universes these crazy moons mix a soupcon of
darkness from the unshaved face of the deep they toss it
about a bit on the horns of the sacred cosmic cow and oop la
animals birds fishes and green plants materialise from the
bowels of the void as if by magic or japanese technology
encouraged by their success the animated moons fashion man
out of sacred cosmic cow dung and follow up this coup
with woman beautiful breasts but no peanus soon fishes
dance in thin air and its fun fun fun on planet
earth until the serpent is rolled out from the last
stale scrap of cosmic cow pat the serpent is the
archetypal free market entrepreneurial spiv who unbalances
the cosmic equation to see how he can exploit suffering and
chaos on a global scale he is found wanting more as god appears
on the scene as a great shiny robot when the seventh sunrise
explodes in golden glory uplifted from below the horizon on
the back of a gigantic turtle man and woman make love
which is an experience as good as it is evil and so
god sends down one of his angelic hit men to evict
them from paradise for neglecting safe sex they are
expelled cast out into the brutal world to earn their
bread by standing on their own two feet and cultivating a
viable marketable image not surprisingly they relapse into the
forbidden joys of sex the serpent now consigned in perpetuity to
a burning fiery pit laughs his fangs off millions of people
arrive in a wing beat of the world bird in the form of
children the world is beautiful lush green hills
broiling seas gods and greenery next the white mans
civilisation appears like acne on the face of the
planet leaving slimy trails of pollution from its
armour plated snails of destruction soon after the start
of bourgeois history the clapped out old poet and wastrel
mount bermo timbo dies and plummets into the gas flames of hell the
assembled demons demand that his latest hit single the return of
the big bad two toed stereophonic sloth be performed non stop
an enthusiastic audience they howl jeer gibber and cavort
demanding endless encores so the poor old sod has
perforce to perform throughout all eternity his red
hot jaws harp blistering his lips perpetual
performance is hell
RETURN OF THE BIG BAD TWO-TOED STEREOPHONIC SLOTH
the two toed sloth he stunts my growth
and never sleeps at night
he hangs from trees while eating leaves
and never rights quite write
he's slow and clumsy on his feet
and couldn't run a metre
Chorus
but i'm very much afraid he is destined to grow
WOW WOW WOW CHA CHA CHA
like a tropical orchid in a bowl of snow
like an atomistic mystic in a Amazonian jingle
WOW WOW WOW CHA CHA CHA CHA
and never rights quite write
my uncle had a tin robot
who used to cook him dinner
this fine machine fried bacon 'n' eggs
but no man could be rasher
one day it shorted at the stove
and ran off with a pylon
Chorus
my auntie had an orang-utan
living in her pear tree
this beast would throw down
twigs
and sticks
on snarling arched backed pussies
banana mild shake kept him fit
for wrestling with the tax man
Chorus
GUANTANAMO BAY BLUES
How did our freedom founder,
As secret police smashed down another door last night?
Guantanamo Bay, I sing of Guantanamo Bay,
Guantanamo Bay, I got those
Guantanamo Bay
Blues
You say you’re saving us from terror,
And that the war was not in error,
You say that things are not so bad,
Try telling that to the people of Bagdad
Guantanamo Bay, I sing of Guantanamo Bay, ...
You’ve been outsourcing torture.
Yet your smile’s too nice for a torturer,
Suspects without trial sent in a covert plane
To a land, where someone nasty inflicts all the pain.
Guantanamo Bay, I sing of Guantanamo Bay, ...
You say you’re saving us from terror,
And that the war was not in error,
Were you saved from your alienated fright,
When secret police smashed down another door last night?
Guantanamo Bay, I sing of Guantanamo Bay, ...
So is Liberty hooded, and is she shackled like the truth,
Are the scales of Justice blinded,
While summary imprisonment needs no proof?
Guantanamo Bay, I sing of Guantanamo Bay, ...
Habeas corpus,
Where are you habeas corpus,
Where can poor Freedom lurk,
Shot down in the home, or on his way to work?
Guantanamo Bay, I sing of Guantanamo Bay, ...
You’re saving us from terror.
Where are you habeas corpus?
Liberty is hooded,
Are the scales of Justice blinded?
Shot down in her home, or on his way to work?
You’re the fastest on the trigger,
When you shoot you shoot to kill.
So war was not in error,
Though your dossier shackled truth.
You’ve outsourced waterboarding,
And that’s how our freedom foundered,
When secret police smashed down another door last night?
Guantanamo Bay, I sing of Guantanamo Bay,
Guantanamo Bay…
I got those Guantanamo Bay Blues!
now i see the coast is clear, from the atlantic storm beach
now at last the coast is free, i see atlantis rising high.
castles perched on precipice, emerging from a blue expanse,
valleys decked with wheat and palm trees dreaming on her beaches.
if only it were true, i'd head out there with you.
the third day that the cock crowed
the dreamer woke once more to be
awake! betrayed! betrayed awake!
come down through the oil slick to the sea bed!
now i see the coast is clear, from the atlantic storm beach
now at last the coast is free, i see atlantis rising high.
i look into my telescope and see the dancing peoples,
whirling round their maypoles and their totems and their steeples.
if only it were true, etc.
now i see the coast is clear, from the atlantic storm beach
now at last the coast is free, i see atlantis rising high.
i put my ear against the sands and hear flamencos singing free,
from mosque and glittering minaret the fierce muezzin reaches me.
if only it were true, i'd head out there with you.
the third day that the cock crowed
the dreamer woke once more to be
awake! betrayed! betrayed awake!
come down through the oil slick to the sea bed!
when crickets play their leg mandolines
and bumble bees suck up to wild flowers
a griddling fiddler's mad tune begins
hey diddle diddle grind and jar
a pink carnation garlands each ear
a sherry bottle clenched in his fist
he warbles tears for souvenirs
hey diddle diddle grind and jar
passers by just give him the bird
and toss a copper after a jeer
or turn a deaf ear or so I've heard
hey diddle diddle grind and jar
in past lives the fiddler played dances for hours
dionysiac girls pranced bare to his tunes
bodies entranced alive to his powers
hey diddle diddle grind and jar
no woman might resist the flèche
fired by the wanton purblind brat
a gut stringed music to melt the flesh
hey diddle diddle grind and jar
now hansoms pass and splash him with mud
gas lights lit cast ghosts in his face
the sherry stiffens his body's thin blood
hey diddle diddle grind and jar
tight streets reek of gutter gin
booze doped babes awake begin
to screech with starved cats to his violin
hey diddle diddle grind and jar
his bow now wafts a foul bitter tune
as foam gobs drum on a brass spittoon
a lean flanked cow stumbles over the moon
hey diddle diddle grind and jar
as doom’s banjo thief clawhammers last dawn
the fiddler irradiates the still unborn
a clown in a false white beard blasts the last horn
hey diddle diddle grind and jar
when crickets play their leg mandolines
and bumble bees suck up to wild flowers
a phantom fiddler's mad tune ...
MOUNT
BERMO TIMBO'S LAMENT (Christmas
2008)
Above the foothills’ bluebell wood,
There beneath gaunt mountain trees,
Clinging where wild rocks have stood
Through countless human histories,
Mount Bermo Timbo dwells up there,
A Phantom fiddling
with a ghost
banjo,
As languid buzzards bask on air,
While crows chase after as they go,
Beyond the rock face at the peak
The mountains of Snowdonia
The steam trains chuff chuff by the sea
And whistle with melancholia.
This old man of the mountains sings
To fauns and heedless voles and sheep
The wooded river valley rings
Where liquid vocal echoes weep.
Just beneath an ancient rockfall,
Stands his spectral canvas tent,
His spirit shelters as acid rainfall,
Claims in vain it’s heaven sent
On his shoulder a snowy owl
Speaks of Hegelian metaphysics,
The weather’s absolutely foul,
For nature is more pricks than kicks.
Down by the sea the oyster catchers
Skim the seas in close formation,
And herring gulls, greedy chip snatchers,
Screech gross tabloid misinformation.
While one-arm bandits ride sad donkeys,
Beneath stern distant Cader Idris,
And corrupt local power mad plonkers,
Grease the palms of the arse they kiss.
And now the storms have finally fled
From tower clouds that swag the blue,
Mount Bermo Timbo’s surely dead,
Though no one’s sure if this is true.
A friendly buzzard picks his bones,
The clamorous crows demand their fill,
Red ants grip their mobile phones
And send out soldiers to the kill.
There crudely scratched on a knackered rock,
Mount Bermo Timbo’s epitaph,
‘He had it coming; it’s not a shock!’
The grey squirrels wrote this for a laugh!
In a thin oak tree squats his skeletonia.
The bony finger of the recent late
Poet seems to point towards Snowdonia,
Saying ‘They also serve who sit and vegetate.’
Mount Bermo Timbo dwells up there,
A phantom fiddling with a ghost banjo,
As languid buzzards bask on air
While crows chase after as they go.
This old man of the mountains sings,
To fauns and
heedless voles and
sheep,
The wooded river valley rings
Where liquid vocal echoes weep.
Where liquid vocal echoes weep
They also serve who sit and vegetate
[What you are free to do with the works on this page: Creative
Commons Non-Commercial Licence, readable summary
link]
<http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/uk/legalcode>.a
Attribution-Non-Commercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK:
England & Wales
Mount Bermo Timbo (T. E. Davies) 2008
