Snakes or Ladders or Train Out of Time

Planet Foxglove

Links to Lyrics

TRAIN OUT OF TIME 

SNAKES OR LADDERS (instrumental)

IT BE T'UNEMPLOYED GRAVE DIGGER 

BARDIC DREAM SONG  

TCHAIKOVSKY DREAM 

sweet bee jive song 

NOW AVAILABLE FOR GIGABITES!

     TWENTY FIRST CENTURY WORRIED MAN BLUES        

NO RHYTHM MAN

WHEN WILL I BE LOVE SONG

UNKNOWING

HOWLING DOG HOWL

[Titles Below Link to Ogg Audio downloads]

TRAIN OUT OF TIME        

 

She’s on the Cambrian Line

  And she’s running out of track

Trying in vain to find a friendly ear

  If this train runs out of time

She won’t be coming back

  She tries to tell her tale, but no one’s here

To listen to her song

 Headed for the country on a run down rural train

  Running from her inner city blues

She stares out at the rain on the misted carriage window

And wonders if she’ll get the chance to choose

  The route she will now

  

Take with the future’s aging rolling stock,

Bumping over cracking buckling rails

Till the pulverising crash

When we all run out of cash

And our lifelines are all closed down in the aftershock

 

 

Of the hungry baby crying in the night,

  The endless rumble of the motorcars

Of the rush to catch the train and the panic of her flight

Of orange street lights blocking out the stars, the stars

 

She’s on the Cambrian Line

  And she’s running out of track

Trying in vain to find a friendly ear

        If this train runs out of time

She won’t be coming back

  She tries to tell her tale but no one’s here

To listen to her song

Of orange street lights blocking out the stars

    Orange street lights blocking out the stars

  Orange street lights blocking out the stars

SNAKES OR LADDERS (instrumental)

 

         

 

<


IT BE T'UNEMPLOYED GRAVE DIGGER        

  

Once I worked with people, served my fellow son's of dust,

  Now the council's laid me off, me shovel's caked with rust,

Ashes to Ashes, dust to dust, what a way to earn a crust,

  It be t'unemployed grave digger.

  

Well a working man needs a little bit of luck.

        It pays you to clock on, clock off before you kick the bucket.

With a pay check and a stiff, I never gave a fuck,

  It be t'unemployed grave digger

  

Well the greasy rain oils the scalp of urban gloom,

        I walk these streets for warmth in vain, the dole won't heat my room,

See the free corpse market thrive, yet they buried me alive

  It be t'unemployed grave digger.

With me mattock in me hand and me pious mourner's face,

  I could bury all your troubles till they rot without a trace,

Empty tank, stalled mortal coil, you may drill that North Heaven Oil,

  It be t'unemployed grave digger.

So you think you're pretty healthy and you'll never end up dead,

         Well I had a place to stuff you, it were worm's house lined with lead,

Now you're happy getting laid, you'll be laid out on your bed,

  By t'prim faced undertaker.

  

Sometimes a human bone or two sprouted from the muck,

Once I found a skull stuck in a footpath's tar macadam,

Alas poor sod I didn't know his nameless head from Adam.

          I was only the grave digger

Some say that higher spirit gaffers have a master plan,

To upgrade life, rebuild, re-tune a new eternal man,

His bladder is titanium, he need never hit the can.

It means unemployed grave diggers

I stood tall when my graveyard wellies clogged my sweating feet,

If I now had strength to lift a brick I'd riot on the street.

When the revolution comes, I'll dig black holes for the elite.

It be t'unemployed grave digger.

  

You drive along life's motorway, in high speed lanes to hell,

      But my working hearse steered  to the tomb, deaf to death's hard sell,

Toiling in the encircling gloom, cheers, I got on very well

As a fully employed grave digger

 

Once I worked with people, served my fellow son's of dust,

Now the council's laid me off, me shovel's caked with rust,

Ashes to Ashes, dust to dust, what a way to earn a crust,

          It be t'unemployed grave digger

  

 

  

(Transylvanian Dead March with Left Bank influence)          

                                     

  

 

                                    

 

BARDIC DREAM SONG

 

 

a court bard dreams, holds in his hand

  a horse skull on the trail

to a castle, hid in a wasted land

  where a speared king bleeds in a grail

and watches rainbow fishes swim

  in the well of merlin's palm

as world bruised knights-in-armour

  urge their steeds to seek him

his true love is a secret tease

  a romance virgin bride

who flies his dreams like starry kites

  which dance in wind, dark, space

he begs her to tell what she sees

  That fires her eyes and face

She'll tell her vision through the night

  (then off side-saddle ride):

  

‘an axis shifts, a great globe tilts

  ‘the poles reverse their fields

‘vast cracks ope', the old king wilts

  ‘the dying landscape yields

‘mountain ranges fracture vales

  ‘fire-storm, blue bolt, flood

‘dry bed oceans, stranded whales

  ‘an horse shoe in the mud’

  

music: castle ramparts shake

  the dream had swiftly gone

dawn came to his grey window,

  then noon, a weird son shone

he slept dreamless till dusk, then wakes

  his dry eyes ache for tears

in trembling courtyards far below

  a stallion frets and rears

 

             

  

       

 

 

TCHAIKOVSKY DREAM

  

        when morning comes i lie there sleeping

                and mourning dewdrops hang there weeping

        their pendant sadness

                mirrors my madness.

        i seek a refuge in tchaikovsky dream

        spring flowers bow towards the setting sun

                lovers and  victims drooping everyone

        power's headless vultures

                scavenge rich cultures.

        infants cry helpless to tchaikovsky dream

        o morning rainbow o weeping dove

                she cries in pain and she laughs in love

        weeping rainbow, mourning dove

                she laughs in pain, she cries in love

bulldozered corpses of dead history

                top up the gas chambers of memory

        the dying dancing

                progress romancing

        to lost illusions in tchaikovsky dream

 

       dream dream dream dream dream dream tchaikovsky dream

        dream dream dream a plundered scream

    gunfire unheeding

        love lies a-bleeding

    as injured patriots flee tchaikovsky dream

  

        o morning rainbow o weeping dove

                she cries in pain and she laughs in love

        weeping rainbow, mourning dove

        she laughs in pain and she cries in love               

    

                                         

when morning comes i lie there sleeping

        and mourning dewdrops hang there weeping

their pendant sadness

        mirrors my madness

sweet cruel mirage o tchaikovsky dream

 

 

 

 

sweet bee jive song

  

i'll kick my shoes o'er my shoulders,

i'll let my glad heart rule my head,

concerning love I'll make it where

it will not get me wed

  

tired of unemployment

tired of nine to five

i goin' to travel from this land

i'm goin' to die alive

  

finished with yes sir no sir

cat out of three bags full

goin' to saddle up and ride

a wind bucked flighty seagull

  

i'm goin' to drain the horn of plenty

dance in barefoot dew

my easy mind is empty and I'm giving it to you

i'll busk in Eldorado

or even sing for free

and if there's nowhere left to go

i'll rustle like a tree.

  

  

watch salmon sunset display

spying fresh winking stars

swimming through the milky way

out to diamond pebbled shores

  

i'll take a slow boat to Venus

a day trip to the moon

if the Devil wants to eat us

he will need a longer spoon

india is waiting for Africa to call

and take her dancing to the drums

at the Darktown Strutter's Ball

  

out on the hourglass beaches

drinking the timeless sun

guitars making speeches

where the welcome refugees run

  

i'll kick my shoes o'er my shoulder

i'll let my glad heart rule my head

concerning love I'll make it where

it will not get me wed

tired of unemployment

tired of nine to five

i'm goin' to travel from this land

dance that sweet bee jive

 

                                                        

  

NOW AVAILABLE FOR GIGABITES! VIRTUAL VAMPIRE DRUMMERS near you!  Advertiser’s Announcement!


Bonzodrum™:  Exciting New Spamba Drumming Group. Join Us! Enjoy Bashing Skin!

Feeling a bit brain dead, at a loose end, ever wanted to play drums? No initiative, no idea?

JoinBonanza Zombie Drumming Cult (Bonzodrum™ ) Let us drum it into you!

Bonzodrum™ is founded by Spamba percussion genius Basho. He sells you real Spamba rhythms. They come from Brazil, where the nuts come from. No musical ability at all is required, you just have to play, pay and obey, and it’s all taken care of for you. Basho has a brilliant no teaching method of teaching drumming. He urges us to simply feel the rhythms. Don’t think, just feel the sunshine rhythms! (It would help if you’re not too young and difficult to control! We don’t want to have to drum you out of the drums because you’ve got a mind of your own!). But yes, you don’t get mere drum teaching; you get full no teaching teaching. Any questions? –we just threaten you and send you to Coventry! Well we’re Zombies, we’re like that!

  

We only have three simple Bonanza Zombie Rules to obey

  

1.

Rule 1 is we have copywrited rhythm for you. So we own the rhythms you play after you have paid us for them. These Rhythms are what is called our intellectual property. Never write a rhythm down in case you remember it, because it’s ours! Just feel, pay and obey!

 

2.             

Rule 2 is we sell you drums with our holy Zombie logo on them. We control what you play on them after you’ve paid us again. (You can get a community grant and pay us with somebody else’s money, if you know how to fill in forms or get help! (Europe warmly encourages best value rapacity building in the community). Of course to the Zombie there is no such thing as community, there is only the highly advanced spiritual world of Bonzodrum™.

 

3.

Rule 3 is we control your drums, we control your rhythms, and if you pay us more than enough, we control you too! No sense of rhythm, no worries! Pay our grand total, we depend on you, and for a grand or three you become totally dependent on us! Mindlessness frees Zombie mind!

  

4.   

Rule 4 is you can’t play anything else, if we are not in control of it and paid more or less, generally speaking, unless of course we say so, and we can’t say fairer than that. (Confused? Just feel the rule!)

 

Next, a Special Offer: Give us your old drums and gladly we’ll let you pay gladly twice for the new ones. Doubly blessed by Basho!  Money for old rope from the public purse!

         What’s more, after more payment you can moreover wear our identical Zombie uniforms, so you won’t stand out in a crowd when you play with the Cult. Each Zombie is identically mind free. We are very local but also overseas too! We play about everywhere near and far right! No sense of rhythm?  Just copy, right! Sadly you can’t afford a uniform? 

… just bugger off!

 

Our guru Basho is a nearly famous Spamba celebrity and he tells us all what to play, if we pay him again and again and again. As 

we endlessly bow down and kiss his bottom, he composes rhythms, which erupt into the holy space between your ears like …

like runaway volcano spew. This means we really feel the rhythms and love Basho  a lot.

 

Hey hep cats! Bonanza Zombie Drumming Cult! You know it makes sense!

Who knows, one day you yourself might service Basho at our level. You might soon be ordering around Zombie drummers yourself, and getting paid lots for it too like a real Spamba expert! Best of all, you don’t even have to pay to slim!

Contact Us !Just feel our email address. A qualified Bonzodrum™ teacher may be in touch to explain everything (if he’s paid a lot and he feels like it). Await his instruction with no fear!

                                         

  

  

 

TWENTY FIRST CENTURY WORRIED MAN BLUES

It takes a no job man to sing a no voice song. (3X)
Unemployed, I’m always in the wrong.
It takes a worried man to sing a worried song (3X)
I’m worried now but I won’t be worried long

Sixteen miles sold down the river just to sign my name (3X)
Just a pawn in a sick computer game
Greedy right wing welfare cuts eat up poor kid’s food (3X)
Pay for tax bribes for the great and good
It takes a no job man to sing a no voice song. (3X)
Unemployed, I’m always in the wrong.

If anybody asks me, when do you sing this song (3X)
On the dole I sing it all year long.
Who has sinned against you, poor child, who is this bad neighbour (3X) 
Born again new tories of slave labour
It takes a no job man to sing a no voice song. (3X)

Unemployed, I’m always in the wrong

Country’s longest dole queue was five million people long (3X) 
And in that queue whole families, lost and gone! 
Land of hopeful story, if the power mad cap fits (3X)
And I do not feel the benefits
It takes a no job man to sing a no voice song. (3X)
Unemployed, I’m always in the wrong.
It takes a worried man to sing a worried song (3X)
I’m worried now but I won’t be worried long
Worried worried worried worried worried worried song
Worried worried man, worried worried song
Worried worried worried worried worried worried song

I’m worried now but I won’t be worried long!

  

And I do not feel the benefits!











                                              

 

                    

                        

NO RHYTHM MAN

  

he's a no-rhythm man

  living in a deadbeat land

drumming in his own small world for no one but himself

  as to music has no clue

don't know who he's playing to

  isn't he a bit like a mad alarm clock from hell

  

no-rhythm man are you drumming

  while guitarists strumming

cannot hear a note they play

  as singers are drowned out

  

goes to workshops to learn drums

  soon gets bored so out he comes

smokes a spliff and contemplates a timeless universe

  he's as happy as can be

hammering shit out of a djenbe

isn't he a bit like a mad alarm clock from hell

  

no-rhythm man are you drumming etc.                

  

out to lunch stoned zapped and smashed

  still the suffering skin is bashed

no-rhythm man drums on and on an awful lot

  sooner or later he falls to sleep

his nerveless fingers miss the beat

  flicking at his slack tuned drum on automatic pilot

 

no-rhythm man are you drumming etc.     

  

when morning sunrise doth come

  the poltergeist raps his deaf drum

peaceful sleepers shudder and awaken to their doom

  no-rhythm man's loud drumming whacks

the dawn chorus stops in its tracks

isn't he a bit like a mad alarm clock from hell

  

lazy uncoordinated self-centred,

  isn't he a bit like you and me?

  

  

  

       WHEN WILL I BE LOVE SONG

 

i've been ploughed up, sowed up, built-up, poisoned skies above

have a knees-up, leave my trees up

when will I be love?

  

i am bleeding, i am shrinking,

i need to rest for a million years,

i am failing, i am sinking

in dust bowls, drained of ten trillion tears.

  

i've been spat on, shat on, wiped with bourgeois velvet glove.

i've been puked on, sat on, nuked on:

when will I be love?

  

i am bleeding, i am shrinking, etc.

              

let me feed you! say "I need you": when push comes to shove,

let my wounds heal! here's your next meal!

when will I be love?

  

i am bleeding, i am shrinking, etc.

 

i've been landscaped, many hands raped, owned, disowned from birth,

i've been slaughtered, sired and daughtered,

love me, mother earth!

  

i am bleeding, i am shrinking, etc.

i've been fished out, farmed, strong armed out, cooped up like the dove,

mined out, burnt out, starved out, dished out,

when will I be love?

 

i am bleeding, i am shrinking, etc.

  

dissipated, irradiated, ravaged close to dearth,

green bestowing, wise, unknowing,

love me Mother Earth

  

.i am bleeding, i am shrinking, etc.


                                                                   


UNKNOWING

 

can you guess my riddle

before I leave again

   to wander down this green valley

to sound of the falling rain

along the green welsh valley

sound of the falling rain

 

Chorus

double rainbow, wet sunshine,

see that train puff down the line

steaming `neath the bridge o'er which I'm floating

all along the shining green welsh valley

 

i had the urge to travel

to see a land called spain

but when I found a dry rocky place

i pined for the falling rain

along the green welsh valley

 

Chorus

double rainbow, wet sunshine etc

                                                  

 

my mother bore three children

i won't see two again

i left behind the wind and sun

i left with the falling rain

along the green welsh valley

left with the falling rain

 

Chorus

double rainbow, wet sunshine etc

 

my thoughts now flow so slowly

there isn't any pain

my memories dissolve inside

the sound of the falling rain

along the green welsh valley

sound of the falling rain

 

Chorus

double rainbow, wet sunshine etc.

 

i am a moody airship

chained to sky's empty brain

i am the phantom cloud who dies

to sound of the falling rain

along the green welsh valley

sound of the falling rain.

 

Chorus

double rainbow, wet sunshine etc.

         

 

 

 

 

HOWLING DOG HOWL

 

early evening one last song bird

singing like a lonely dog

so tired of howling in the acid fog

now it's morning hear me howling

rolling in this strange black snow

man wants more power, how would this dog know

 

howl doggerel howl

prowl dogged prowl

gutter and street like the heat on the beat

howling and prowling and snuffling and growling

everybody needs a body everybody needs a dog

 

iron lady or a lamppost

or maybe it's a law man's knee

don't cock a leg you'll be barking up the wrong damn tree

as you see me in my fur coat

wagged at by your tongue and tail

world is a dog house, man's best friend's in jail

 

howl doggerel howl etc.

  

trotting by fluorescent sea 

  where can all the people be?

sniffing saltpetre air, growling

  hunting for some trash to eat

longing for someone to meet

  dream of bones in hungry misery

  

so i'm bound for

  the final dog's home

rainbow kennel in the clouds

  full central heating, radioactive shrouds

         just remember

when you stroke it

your friendly nuclear family pet

  that a green shaggy stray might prove your best friend yet

  

howl doggerel howl etc.

  

 

                             

  

  

  

  


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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