JOHN WALLER : SONG LYRICS
Bengt Olaffson |
Bethesda to Rowen |
Blind Song |
Bradford |
Christy Crunchies
Eternal Window |
Goldfish |
Grandad 2050 |
Irene Nemirovsky |
The Italian Chapel
Let Her Go |
Liberator |
Listopad in Mirogoj |
Ljubljana |
Molecules |
Mushrooom
Never Again |
Norfolk Wherry |
Norway |
Office Junior |
Pachelbel |
Palestine
Parallel Lives |
Red Man, White Man |
The Silence |
Tapestry |
Ulicama |
Wraetlig
Xiao Shan |
Yer Bike
BENGT OLAFFSON
Molecules
You'll remember the sad story of Bengt Olaffson's strange cow
That appeared upon the cowshed roof and no-one knew quite how
He phoned his vet and builder, but neither had a clue
How to dis-enroof the beast, nor what Bengt now should do
He vowed to get her down himself, it was his only hope
So he rigged up this contraption, with pulley, beam and rope
He tied the cow securely, but it seems that he forgot
He was just a scrawny farmer, and the cow weighed quite a lot
(Chorus from previous)
So just like Hoffnung's story, as Bengt was halfway up
He met the cow descending, and full heavily was struck
He carried on right to the top; this really made him scream
Jammed his fingers in the pulley, banged his head upon the beam
Bengt found himself descending, no time to work out how
And by some strange misfortune, he landed on the cow
The startled beast set off at once, p'raps happy to be free
And Bengt clung on for dear life as they charged towards the sea
(Chorus)
The cow soon reached the cliff top, and suddenly stopped short
Throwing Bengt from off her back; but luckily he caught
The twigs of a lone furze bush growing tight against the edge
Bengt's body o'er the cliff top, feet scrabbling for a ledge.
So now we see Bengt hanging on with whitening fingertips
To the edge of a great cliff-face, last prayers on his lips
His feet could find no purchase, his strength was fading fast
His life was flashed before his eyes, each breath could be his last
If you want to know what happens next, then buy my next CD
G, C
G Em, C, D
G, C, Am
G, Em, C, D
JW © 2005
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BETHESDA TO ROWEN
Molecules (Welsh version: Tapestry)
Bethesda was a working town, its roofs of local slate
The sheepdog on the hillside, the shepherd at the gate
But now the boarded shopfronts say the town has had its day
The rows of terraced housing showing signs of slow decay
Bethesda town to Rowen, across the fells so high
Rowan to Bethesda, the slate town left to die
The track climbs up above the town, to treeless open land
Shattered boulders, tufted grass, the timeless fells expand
Hidden valleys open out, the path winds ever on
Across the backs of hillsides where the air is wide and strong
Bethesda town to Rowen, across the fells so high
Rowan to Bethesda, the slate town left to die
Descending wooded farmland into Rowen's pretty lanes
Range Rovers outside cottages, with fancy fake Welsh names
Gardens neatly tended, gables whitewashed bright
All owned by weekend Englishmen who arrive on Friday night
Bethesda town to Rowen, across the fells so high
Rowan to Bethesda, the slate town left to die
Two villages a walk apart, yet the differences are vast
The Anglicised soft present, the Welshman's gritty past
The shepherd and the quarryman no longer earn their keep
The English summer visitors need neither slate nor sheep
Bethesda town to Rowen, across the fells so high
Rowan to Bethesda, the slate town left to die
Gad lonydd, Sais, i'n tref fach ni; Mi ddaw ein cur i ben.
Be' wyddost am ein bywyd 'ma; O gerddi Y Ro-wen?
Daw 'Pesda Roc a'r ifanc, ^A'n heniaith 'nÙl i'n tir,
Mi glywi s^wn ein chwerthin, A'n canu cyn bo hir!
Ia, dyma a glywa'r Saeson: "Mae'r bywyd bras ar ben:
Cymry pia'u tiroedd, Bethesda a'r Ro-wen!"
G, F# (bass), Em C; G, D, G, D;
G, F# (bass), Em C; G, D, C, G.
Chord shapes: C, D, G, C; G, D, C, C+
but Capo 2 (so actually sung in E)
© JW 2004 (verses 1-4 and chorus) © Eileen Walker (Welsh section)
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BLIND SONG
Liberator
Land of Darkness, where I am
How can you hear the sounds of springtime breaking out around you
How can you feel the growing corn?
How can you smell the distant mountains
How can you taste a summer's morn?
Can you share the senses of the blind
Walls of darkness round my mind
Land of darkness where I am
I wish to know the truth of Autumn colours in the woods
I wish to know the Autumn leaves
I can only smell the smell of dampness
And hear the wind in the wind-scourged trees
Can you share the senses of the blind
Walls of darkness round my mind
Land of darkness where I am
For I can feel the bitter cold of winter in my heart
Like winter's trees my life lies bare
My life is gaunt just like the grey skies
I curse the silence of my eyes
I curse the silence of my eyes
Can you share the senses of the blind
Walls of darkness round my mind
Land of darkness where I am
Em D (Fx) C G D
D (Fx) C G D (Fx)
C G D (Fx)
C G D (Fx)
C G D Db*
Em F G A
Em D (Fx)
© JW © 1969 / 2002
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BRADFORD
Molecules
When I first came to Bradford eight and thirty years ago
There was Herbert's Pie and Tripe bar, Brown Muff and Busby's too
Princes' Theatre, Swan Arcade had gone before I came
But we'd a proper Kirkgate Market, and proper whores along Lumb Lane
When I first came to Bradford, we hadn't joined the EEC
The shilling, crown and tanner hadn't turned to pounds and pee
M62 was incomplete, not much cross-Pennine trade
The things that Yorkshire needed, were mostly Yorkshire made
And the singers in the Topic were warbling in harmony paeans of praise to the past
Of changes destroying the lifetimes of working men; and how the good things dont last
When I first came to Bradford, on a trolley bus you could ride
From Odsal top to City, and from City to the BRI
Past cobbled streets of back to backs wi't'midden down the path
Public buildings black with soot and homes without a bath
When I first came to Bradford they had night shifts at the mill
100 tall black chimneys ... were proudly standing still
A century of incomers: the Irish, blacks and Poles
Now the Pakistani underclass was the last to man the looms
Do you remember Polish Anna on sticks, always shouting, and seeming perpetually drunk
And the one-legged match-seller outside the Odeon; and waving to the fast-walking monk
When I first came to Bradford, beer was two and six a pint
So I took my London girlfriend for a drink on her first night
As we walked in the cry went up "where't fook d'you think y'are?
This is Yorkshire, and women are not welcome in this bar"
When I first came to Bradford, the Topic, at the Star
Was full of singers singing, how much better old times were
They're singing much the same these days; but I'm not sure that it's true
Girls barred from bars, the soot, the sweat and the draughty outside loo
But the singers in the Topic still warble in harmony paeans of praise to the past
Of changes destroying the lifetimes of working men, and how the good things don't last.
Sung a capella (a similar tune to "Bengt Olaffson")
© John Waller - July 2005
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CHRISTY CRUNCHIES
Liberator
Something new in wafer biscuits
Christy Crunchies now on sale
Consecrated crispy crackers
Christy Crunchies, holy grail
Salvation comes in every packet
Inner cleanliness assured
Every wafer makes you safer
From the diabolic horde
The bright new packet is so pretty
Says Mrs Fothergill from Leeds
I love the taste of all that goodness
Satisfying my inner needs
The Bishop proud of Liverpool says
"Shout the message loud and clear
Christy Crunchies are the best, you
Taste the Real Presence here."
Something new in wafer biscuits
Christy Crunchies now on sale
Consecrated crispy crackers
Christy Crunchies, holy grail
What need of further testimonial?
Rush right out and get yours too!
Savour now that saviour flavour
It'll save yer! (And it's true)
Sometimes recited, sometimes sung to German National Anthem.
Usually performed with the original cardboard packaging.
Idea © Neil "Amcanus" Jones, Bristol 1969
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ETERNAL WINDOW
Tapestry
Tune in 5/4. Picked fingerstyle
Basic chords: Bm, F#m, Em, A, G*, A, G, A bis (G* = 320030)
"Chorus": D, C, G, A bis
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GOLDFISH
Molecules (with a test version on Liberator)
I am a little goldfish I swim round in my bowl, all day long
I am a little goldfish I swim round in my bowl, all day long
Oh here's a little bridge and here's a little castle and here's a little patch of weed
Oh here's a little castle and here's a little bridge and, somewhere I can feed
'Cos I am a little goldfish I swim round in my bowl, all day long
I am a little goldfish I swim round in my bowl, all day long
You maybe think a goldfish can't remember anything at all - not for long
You maybe think a goldfish hasn't any brain at all - you'd be wrong
For though I'm a little goldfish I know that things exist - outside my bowl
Finding who builds the castles and the little bridges - is my goal
I think that all I've got comes from a great Koi Carp up - in the sky
And if the great Koi Carp didn't feed me - well, I'd die
I believe that up above me swims a great Koi Carp
Who created my bowl, and all my sand so sharp
Who builded all the castles
Who builded all the bridges
Who planted all the weed
Who provides me with my feed
Who gives me all I need
Just to be a little goldfish, swimming round in my bowl all day long
I am a little goldfish I swim round in my bowl, all day long
Em - D - C (etc)
G - D - C (etc)
Open E shape with base B at 7th fret - 8 - 7 - 5 - 3 - 2 - 1 - 0
© John Waller 2002
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GRANDAD 2050
Molecules (with a test version on Liberator)
I think of my Grandad, though he is now long passed away
If he'd lived until now - 2050 - he'd be over a hundred today
But as I look around me, a century after his birth
I ask; why did he do this to my Earth?
'Cos Grandad, you knew, just what your profligate lifestyle would do
You understood science, you knew the projections were true
But you just carried on, when you knew
Deserts advancing, ice floes retreat
Hurricanes, droughts, floods, disease and defeat
Waters are rising, coastlines redrawn,
and whole swathes of life have just gone
And Grandad, you knew, just what your profligate lifestyle would do
If you wanted to travel, you just jumped in your car, or you flew
You just carried on, though you knew
Now the armies of the dispossessed are moving northwards
Their fishing grounds have gone, their grasslands parched,
Their animals dead and their potbellied children are dying
They have not brought this on themselves, we have visited it upon them
Now there's bloodshed over water, civil strife and ethnic slaughter
But as the armies of the dispossessed start massing on our borders
Up will go the cry, and down will come the orders
Keep them out keep them out keep them out keep them out kept them out
And Grandad, you knew, just what your profligate lifestyle would do
It might not have happened, if only you'd thought matters through
But you just carried on, when you knew
The rich cause the problems, but the victims are always the poor
Now the world's dispossessed are beating a path to my door
How can I deny them, when your lifestyle helped destroy theirs
It's just one more damn thing you've left to your heirs
It was always someone else's problem, that's the way it seemed
But Grandad, that someone else is me
C, G, Dm, Am; F, G, C, G; C, G, Dm, Am; F, G, C, C
F, G, C; (Ddim) Am; Dm, (dim), Em, G; F, G, C, (Ddim), Am, F, G, C.
Bridge: A9 moving up to 4th fret, 5th, 7th, 9th 11th......
3 /4 time: capo 3
© John Waller, June 2007
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IRENE NEMIROVSKY
Molecules
A cold winter's morning in Paris; as her mother is marched to that train
Given charge of a small padlocked suitcase; keep this safe till I see you again
With a jolt the train starts its journey; not a sign not a wave nor a kiss
The jackbooted soldiers smile quietly; then it's gone like a ghost in the mist
Keep hold of that suitcase, protect it from capture and harm
As long as that case remains padlocked and safe, her mother will surely return
A new spring awakens in Paris; the fate of those jackboots long sealed
But the trains that came back were all empty; and the truth of those journeys revealed
Sometimes at black midnight, temptation; the lock, the key aching to turn
But would opening give any answers; or condemn all her last hopes to burn
Keep hold of that suitcase, protect it from capture and harm
As long as that case remains padlocked and safe, her mother will surely return
But she did retrace that terrible journey; the guardhouse, the watch towers, barbed wire
To the rusting remains of Auschwitz, where the furnace doors held in the fire
But like the tomb of the unknown soldier, the records will never quite show
Was it here, was it there; were those her teeth and hair?
You're so close, but you'll never quite know
As the summer of life turns to autumn, it dims both the light and the pain
Surely time now to open that suitcase, no vestige of doubt can remain
She finds novels her mother was writing, of the times when those jackboots first came
As France sent its Jews to the death camps;
the writing ceased when her mother too, boarded that train
Keep hold of your memories; they're your truth and your truth alone
Now open at last, we must learn from / live with the past
Perhaps her mother has finally come home.
3 / 4 Capo fret 3
(1) 005500 (2) 100230 (bis2); F, G, Am
Dm (3) xxo453 Dm Am, Em (bis2) F G Am
Em Am; Em Am; Em Am; F G Am; F G C D; F G F
© John Waller 2006
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THE ITALIAN CHAPEL
Molecules (Version by Simon Alexander: Tapestry)
One day in early October, a U-boat breached Scapa Flow
Releasing a single torpedo, to scupper the proud Royal Oak
As well as the loss of the warship, 800 souls perished that day
And Churchill decreed that we'd never be free till barriers stood in the way
But construction needed a workforce, and labour was not to be found
The young men were off in the army, the womenfolk tending the land
So despite the Geneva Convention, captives were brought from afar
Italians taken in Africa, where Monty was winning his war
So Domenico came to the Orkneys, to the dark and the wind and the rain
Yearning for Mama and pasta and olives and sunshine
Working his hands to the bone, laying down causeways of stone
But dreaming of freedom to leave here and go home again
And Tommy their conscripted guardsman stood over them all
Proud to be playing his own part, in helping to win us the war
The barriers rose from the seabed, over Burray, Lamb Holm and Ness
As winter turned into summer, the prisoners needed a rest
But the prison camp needed adornment - those Nissen huts ugly as hell
And Domenico dreamed of the church in his village, and heeded the call of its bell
Using nothing but concrete and scrap iron, old bully beef tins and glass
Material salvaged from shipwrecks, timbers and hawsers and masts
The prisoners built their own Chapel with altar and transept and nave
Using skills that they'd learned before war made them soldiers and took them away from their trades
So Domenico stood on the Orkneys, watching the birth of a dream
A homage to God and to peace and to love and his homeland
Working his hands to the bone, creating a vision of Rome
Though a prisoner still, he knew in his heart he was free
And Tommy the conscripted guardsman stood watching alone
He felt trapped on the Orkneys himself, how he dearly longed to go home
The war was reaching its climax, the chapel was nearly complete
The prisoners' war work was ended, Germany lay ruined in defeat
It was time for release and returning; but Domenico vowed to stay on
To complete those last final touches, to finish what he had begun.
The Chapel still stands in the Orkneys, visitors flock from afar
The Italians who built it all come back to see it, and fondly remember the past
Of Tommy the conscripted guardsman, like a prisoner standing forlorn
As Domenico's faith shone out like a beacon to light the dark days of the war.
Verse: Em, C, G, D; Em, C, G, D: C, D, G, C; G, D, C, G.
Domenico: G, C, D, G, C, D, G, C, D, Em, D (bis)
Tommy: Am, Em, Am, C, D ......
3 /4, second fret
© John Waller 02/2004
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LET HER GO
Molecules
He told her, as they woke next day, new lovers in a daze
You'll have to write and tell him it's the parting of the ways
You loved him, now you've left him; the time has come at last
To write to say you'll let him go, draw a line under the past
She did as he suggested, though she went and sat alone
She signed and sealed and stamped it, and went out on her own
He watched her pause before the box, and drop the letter in
It was only then he realised, that the letter was for him.
G D C G
Am G, Am D
© JW 2004
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LIBERATOR
Liberator
I saw my plane hit the deck; the crew had baled out just in time
Nursing her back 'cross the war-raddled sea, just making it over the line
Now I'm thrown on the rocks, a young girl stands, the flames of the crash in her eyes
She looks down and sees me, screams in a dream, the wind howls to cover her cries
Why does nobody help me, as the stars cease to whirl in the skies
Just the girl with the frightened expression, and the terrible flames in her eyes
I crawl to a village, there's no-one about; from a window a woman looks down
The rooms are all dark, the curtains flap loose, and her eyes wear a sorrowful frown
So I bang on the door till the woman comes out; it's the girl, still frightened but free
But elderly now, she leads me along, to a gravestone set 'neath a tree
Why does nobody help me, as the stars cease to whirl in the skies
Just the girl with the frightened expression, and the terrible flames in her eyes
She points to the gravestone, the name is my own, though it's faded and hard to discern
She says "you've come back here each year without fail, on the night your aircraft came down
You crawl through this graveyard, as your soul seeks the body it left
On that night sixty years ago now to the day, that I witnessed your untimely death"
Why does nobody help me, as the stars cease to whirl in the skies
Just the girl with the frightened expression, and the terrible flames in her eyes
You can't change your timeline, you can't reconstruct, and you can't bring a ghost back to life
But I'm certain that girl, now an elderly maid, would elsehow have once been my wife
And I think of our lives, our children not born, the branches that never will spread
And all the potential that's lost to the world, through the cull of the war's early dead
Why does nobody help me, as the stars cease to whirl in the skies
Just the girl with the frightened expression, and the terrible flames in her eyes
The ground comes to meet me, the soil erupts, I bury myself with a cry
Comes release for the living as well as the dead, as my soul finds its peace with a sigh
That's why nobody helped me, as the stars ceased to whirl in the skies
Just the girl with the frightened expression, and the terrible loss in her eyes
Em, C, D Em ‚ Em, C, D, Em ‚ G, D, C, D ‚ Em, C, D, Em
Chorus - Am, Em, G, D, - Am, Em, C, D C
Introduction: start with 3rd and 4th string at 9th fret, descending 7th fret, 4th fret*, 2nd fret
Coda - last word of chorus, second fret with 3rd and 4th strings (ie Am but with open 5th string)
then slide up 5th fret, 7th, 9th.
© JW 2002 (from a short story by Nick Waller)
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LISTOPAD IN MIROGOJ
Tapestry
Listopad in Mirogoj; wear your Sunday best
Listopad in Mirogoj; to mark the day of Death
Battered blue tramcar, crowded to bursting, clatters its way through the fray
Of chattering children, old pious pilgrims in grief
Old village ladies, black-scarved and toothless, huddle in knots by the gate
Offering icons and red votive candles and wreaths
And Natasa shows me the way with a touch on my sleeve
Listopad in Mirogoj; wear your Sunday best
Listopad in Mirogoj; to mark the day of Death
Partisan veterans, proud sense of duty; peasants with donkeys and carts
Party officials in sleek black Mercedes for show
Family groupings cluster round gravesides; widows with fresh-broken hearts
Reading the names of their loved ones only they know
And Natasa touches the gravestone where her name will go
Listopad in Mirogoj; wear your Sunday best
Listopad in Mirogoj; to mark the day of Death
Bright brittle sunlight fades into evening; the chill speaks of winter to come
Small whitewashed cottages, firewood logs stacked at their side
Back in the tramcar the mood is still quiet, as mourners' minds bend towards home
Some are still dabbing at tears that haven't quite dried
And Natasha tells me in whispers how her mother died
Listopad in Mirogoj; wear your Sunday best
Listopad in Mirogoj; to mark the day of Death
Communists cover the country in concrete, write slogans worthy and strong
But ritual tradition still grips at the heart of this land
Let's sit round the fire with a bottle of rakija, sing a traditional song
Of nationalist battles and passions I don't yet understand
And Natasha smiles through the firelight, and touches my hand
Listopad in Mirogoj; wear your Sunday best
Listopad in Mirogoj; to mark the day of Death
3/ 4 Capo: 1
Chorus: Am, Em F G Am
Verses: C, G, F, G; C, G, F: Dm, C, G, C; Dm, C, F
Natasa: Am, C, F
A full set of background notes concerning the images in this song is available here.
© John Waller October 2007
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LJUBLJANA
Molecules
Beneath the three white bridges, the Ljubljanica flows by
Past the bustling flower market, the castle set on high
The Catholic Cathedral, the Bishop's house so vast
And the broken pointing finger, to remind you of the past
In the 1940s the fascist armies came
The priests and prelates acquiesced, to their eternal shame
The godless Partisans fought back, with freedom in their hearts
But one by one they were betrayed, and the Bishop played his part
At last the tide of history turned, the occupiers fled
In victory the Partisans built a statue to their dead
A hand with finger pointing straight at the Bishop's room
Till a young priest with a hammer showed defiance of his own
Church or state, right or wrong, science or belief
War sharpens your dilemmas, throws choice in stark relief
Would you stand up for freedom at a time of civil strife?
Or would you keep your head down, and never risk your life
Izpod tromostolje, the Ljubljanica flows still
Past the bustling trgovina, the Grad up on the hill
Katolicka crkva, preljatski dom so vast
And the broken pointing finger, so you don't forget the past
Don't forget the past
A9 G, Dm E A9 G, Em A9 G A9
© John Waller 2004
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MOLECULES
Molecules
Where did we all come from? If you stop and think
Our bodies are entirely made of what we eat and drink
We're all built up from molecules, our flesh and bones and skin
We take them in, they stay a while, then pass from us again
We eat we drink we breathe we grow, that's what humans do
Then micturate and defecate and the molecules pass through
What then am I made of, what tonight is part of me?
This morning's egg and sausage, the fish I had for tea
The bread and cheese I ate last week is still making my bones strong
I've beer inside my bladder, though that won't be staying long.
Last month the egg was in a hen, the sausage was a cow
The fish was swimming in the sea, but they're all inside me now
The bread was wheat, the cheese was grass, both were miles away
The water, malt and yeast and hops hadn't reached the brewery
We eat we drink we breathe we grow, that's what humans do
Then micturate and defecate and the molecules pass through
So where does it all go to, when it's finished being me?
Our turds are buried in the ground, the wee flows back to sea
Both join the soil and water from which living things will grow
To be eaten by some bugger else far away who I don't know
So what this means for all of us, I've thought of it a lot
Our bodies ever melting in some vast organic pot
The molecules that currently are part of me, it's true
Tomorrow will pass out again, and will one day be in you
We eat we drink we breathe we grow, that's what humans do
Then micturate and defecate and the molecules pass through
So there's Jew in every Muslim, dog in every cat
There's parts of Ariel Sharon that were once in Arafat
There's black in white, Chinese in brown, it nails the racist lie
Inside every ardent feminist there are parts of macho guy
There's things in Ian Duncan Smith* that were once in Tony Blair
There's parts of Ginger Rogers that have moved through Fred Astaire
There's some of us in all of us - and what really gives me hope
Is knowing parts of Ian Paisley have been shat out by the Pope.
We eat we drink we breathe we grow, that's what humans do
Then micturate and defecate and the molecules pass through
|
1
2
1
2
3
3
1
2
1
2
3
3
1
2
3
3
|
* Michael Howard, David Cameron ....
G, D, C, G;
Am, G, Am, D
Em, C, G, D, Em C, G,D,G
Words and music © John Waller 2003
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MUSHROOM
Liberator
Just out of Kendal there's ridge with a mushroom
Where walkers and ramblers can shelter from the rain
The rim picks out the fountains, the peaks and troughs and mountains
And something always calls me back again
You can see the Morecambe Bay sands, the hills of the Lakelands
You can see the M6 glowing, and the boiling Irish Sea
You can see back through the ages, turn back through your life's pages
The past just points its finger back at me
When I go high up on the Mushroom again
You wouldn't think a place like this could bring such pain
You can see so far it's painful to recall, regrets you have for things that went before
I can see back over the water to the minarets of Bosnia
The naif hills by Zagreb, white islands in the sea
The boxy Orthodoxy of the churches of Serbia
These lands were once a home to me
But I left these lands of foment before trouble turned to torment
And I left the one I loved there with troubles of her own
Like some imperial despot I came, I saw, I conquered
And I left Natasa suffering alone
Now I'm high up on the Mushroom again
You would not think a place like this could bring such pain
You can see so far it's painful to recall, regrets you have for things that went before
I can see across the ether to the coastline of Phoenecia
The sweetly scented pinefields and the arid dusty plains
The olive and the hookah, the hummous and tabouleh
The summer sun and gentle autumn rains
But I left this land of beauty before it turned to tragedy
And everyone I met there had their horrors still to come
As Israel's fiery breath kindled flames of civil death
The anger boils; how little I have done
When I'm high up on the Mushroom again
You would not think a place like this could bring such pain
You can see so far it's painful to recall, regrets you have for things that went before
Just out of Kendal there's ridge with a mushroom
Where walkers like you can gaze out at the view
You can look back through the ages, and turn back through life's pages
But the past may point its finger back at you
If you go high up on the mushroom
Am, G, Dm, F; Am, G, Dm, Em; Am, G, Dm, F; Am, G, F
Dm, C, G; Dm, C, G; Dm, Am, G, Amdim G.
(c) JW 2002
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NEVER AGAIN
Liberator
Sitting at home in the evening, you just start to think
That it might be quite nice to nip down to the pub for a drink
There's a pool game in progress, then you start to play darts
And you stay and drink till you're pissed as two farts
And stagger back home and promptly throw up in the sink
Next morning you wake with a hammering head
Your bowels are queasy, your eyes are blood red
If given the choice you'd rather be dead
Oh, Oh, oh, never again; Oh, Oh, oh, never again
Next evening the phone rings; a mate you've not seen for years
The last time you saw him his girlfriend had left him in tears
Now he's out on the pull, in the market once more
And he thinks as a pair, you're more likely to score
How better to start than to go out and share a few beers?
Chorus
Now some colleague from work is retiring and moving away
And you know that you shouldn't go out for a drink at midday
But the laughter and company sweep you along
Soon it's time for the speeches and maybe a song
And once in the pub, you find it's so easy to stay, all day
Chorus
Why do we so quickly forget every hangover's pain?
I've a theory on this, which I'd rather like to explain
The brewers control you, here's what they do
There's a chemical secret they add to each brew
It wipes clean the nodules and cells of your memories brain
And so you forget, and you go out and get drunk again
And so you forget, and you go out and get drunk again
Chorus
But you do, oh yes you do
And you will, I know you will
|
Em, G, D
Am, C, D
G, D1
F, Em
C, D, G
C, D
Em, G D
C, D
G, (F#) Em D
C, D
C, D
C, D
|
© John Waller 2002
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NORFOLK WHERRY
Molecules
Dawn fingers creeping, cold winter light seeping
The mists barely stir on the breeze
Eastern stars fading, a gibbous moon waning
The hoar frost glints hard on the trees
Along the hedgerow lies a dusting of snow
Concealing the dead autumn leaves
A mute swan is gliding, ripples subsiding
To die 'neath the ice-crusted reeds
All is now stillness across Oulton Broad
The wherry rots silently where she lies moored
The dawn will bring nothing, a new day unfolds
Still no crewmen to sail her, no goods for her hold
It's a year since a soul stepped aboard
It's not only the winter that's cold
It's not only the winter that's cold
Am G Am Em Am; (bis); Dm C Bm Em; Am G Am Em Am
Dm C, Bm C; F, G, F, G, F, E:
F, G, D+
© John Waller 2004
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NORWAY
Molecules
Six thirty in the morning, Bengt Olafsson arose
He washed and shaved and farted, and stretched and touched his toes
He breakfasted on ryebread, Norwegian beans and curd
And went into the farmyard, to milk his lowing herd
He'd worked the farm for forty years and never had a rest
From the routine of the milking, the silage and harvest
So on this winter morning, in the warm Norwegian sun
He little thought that he would find anything was wrong
Bengt went into the cowshed - his herd was one cow short
No sign of a forced entry, nor gaps in the back wall
Then on the flat Norwegian roof he spied the missing cow
She'd obviously climbed up there, but he couldn't work out how
There's a cow up on the roof dear, whatever shall we do?
A cow up on the roof dear, and all it does is moo
Had pranksters come ashore at night with cargo net and crane?
His farm lay by the seaside, hard by the foaming main, but
Two miles in both directions up the straight Norwegian coast
No tracks were showing in the sand, no sign of any boats
Perhaps they'd come by land then, but the gates were both locked tight
And if they'd tried to force them, geese would've honked all night
No vehicle could penetrate the Norwegian cactus fence
The leaves were far too prickly and the cactus grew too dense
Chorus
He'd have to get the cow down, perhaps a trampoline
But leaping cows from such a height was something he'd not seen
He couldn't fly a chopper, or Norwegian microlight
He didn't have a bungee rope, things didn't look too bright
Bengt vowed to stay awake all night, he'd load his shotgun now
In case the pranksters came again, to roof another cow
He sighed as he sat down to wait, and to help to pass the time
He opened up a bottle of sweet Norwegian wine
Chorus
As to what then happened, I'm afraid I cannot say
Bengt phoned me up to tell me, just the other day
But I don't speak much Norwegian, so I didn't catch, in truth
If he got his cow down, or found udders on the roof
So, this Norwegian story doesn't have an end -
G, C
G Em, C, D
G, C, Am
G, Em, C, D
JW © 2002
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OFFICE JUNIOR
Liberator
I'm the Office Junior, the bottom of the scale
I have to fetch and carry, make the tea and log the mail
They make me scurry back and forth with jobs for other folk
It all seems utterly pointless and the salary's a joke
And the boss who lords it over me, he thinks he's born to rule
He never does a stroke of work, the man's an utter fool
He's called the Office Manager, and I'll tell it to you straight
If I could only have his job then things would be just great...
I'm the Office Manager, my job's a total bore
I have to write these draft reports and I don't know what they're for
Keep records of transactions, petty cash and ins and outs
They tell me it's important but I really have my doubts
And the boss who queens it over me, she thinks she's born to rule
She never does a stroke of work, the woman is a fool
She's called Head of Department, and I'll lay it on the line
If I could only have her job then things would be just fine...
I'm Head of Department, and I do the best I can
But I'm starved of all resources, the system is a sham
I must deliver savings, progress, targets and the rest
They say I must try harder, I can only do my best
And the boss who lords it over me, he thinks he's born to rule
He never does a stroke of work, the man's an utter fool
He's called the Deputy Chairman, and I'll tell it to you straight
If I could only have his job then things would be just great...
I'm the Deputy Chairman, I get all the flak
Co-ordinate a million things while fielding all the crap
With quarterly projections and base audits without trace
And deadlines, meetings, strategy, chasing goals from outer space
And the boss who lords it over me, he thinks he's born to rule
He never does a stroke of work, the man's an utter fool
He's called the Company Chairman, and I'll lay it on the line
If I could only have his job then things would be just fine...
I'm the Company Chairman, at the tip-top of the tree
I take responsibility, the buck stops here with me
But shareholders and government both add and extra strain
The stress and hassle that I get just gives me so much pain
That I wish I were the Office Boy again
I wish I were the Office Junior again
I wish I were the Office Junior again.
|
C, G
G, C
C, F
D, G
F, C
G, C
F, C
D, G (G7)
|
C, G, G, C, C, F, D, G
F, C, G, C, F, C, D, G... (F, G, C, Am - final lines of last verse)
JW © October 2002
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PACHELBEL
Molecules
Instrumental. Chords: C, G, Am, Em, F, C, F G;
Repeated with increasing complexity and fingerstyling from single chords
through 2/4, 3/4, 4/4, 5/4, 6/8 up to 7/8 and back down again.
That's the idea, anyway.
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PALESTINE
Liberator
For years and years the Jewish folk had lived all round the world
They were persecuted everywhere, made a scapegoat for all ills
Until the desire culminated for a Jewish national home
The League of Nations blessed it, and Palestine was chosen
And isn't it the innocents who suffer
Between the wars the Jews came in to the land they now called their own
Renaming it Israel, the Jewish national home
But what about poor Palestine, and the Palestinian men
There wasn't room for both the peoples then
Oh Israel, the sin lies here in your name; lies here
The sin lies here in your name
The Jews came in from Europe, escaping Hitler's hand
The desperation that they felt is plain to understand
But too many thousands flooded in, and something had to give
And bloody battles broke out, and the Arabs were forced to leave
They were dispossessed at gunpoint, from the lands they'd farmed for years
And thrown across the borders despite all Arab pleas
And those that stayed were subjected to a foreign military
Deprived of rights as citizens in a land no longer free
The refugees in Arab lands were forced to live in camps
And hovels, slums and crude tin huts on the borders of their lands
There was no work for them to do, no money hope nor food
And the massive influx coming in did the Arab states no good
Now twenty years have passed away, and still the refugees
Are living in these shanty towns in squalor and disease
And the population is growing, not as many deaths as births
So every day of inaction means that the problem's getting worse
The leaders of the world's great powers talk pragmatically of right
But they don't have to lead the lives of those that lost the fight
They talk of peace with Israel, because oil is what they need
The leaders of the world just talk, and forget the refugees
Em D C B
Em D C D
Em C D Em D
Em D C B Em D Em
© JW 1969
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PARALLEL LIVES
Not yet recorded
And the sun beats down on an Indian morning, Tuk-tuks are buzzing like bees round a hive
Humanity's strata are laid out before me, parallel futures, parallel lives
He stands by the roadside, beard matted and thick
Cylindrical legs as thin as his stick
His dhoti dishevelled and dirty
He begs for existence with outstretching hand
Just to live in a world that he can't understand
He looks sixty, but might be just thirty
And the sun beats down on an Indian morning, Tuk-tuks are buzzing like bees round a hive
Humanity's strata are laid out before me, parallel futures, parallel lives
She sits in the tuk-tuk, laptop in hand
Mobile on shoulder, shouting demands / barking commands
Her saree is cut with precision
She's delivered the goods, to a timescale unreal
Now she's off to a meeting, to cut some new deal
Does the old man impinge on her vision?
And the sun beats down on an Indian morning, Tuk-tuks are buzzing like bees round a hive
Humanity's strata are laid out before me, parallel futures, parallel lives
My smoked-glass air-con taxi moves past
My eyes catch them both, but I'm moving too fast
My feet simply don't touch the ground
Whisked to the five-star; straight from the flight
Trapped in a traveller's bubble of light
And the lives outside don't make a sound
Still the sun beats down on an Indian morning
On beggars and business, and contrasts enthralling
For a moment of chance, we all share the same street
But our parallel paths destined never to meet
He can't become her, she can't become me
No more than a fish can climb into a tree
And the tuk-tuks still buzzing like bees round a hive
Past parallel futures, parallel lives
For a moment of chance, we all share the same street
But our parallel paths destined never to meet
V: Am Em Dm Am, C, G; Dm, Am, C, G, Dm ... G
C: F, Am, C, G, F, Am, Dm, .. G C2: F, Am, C, G bis bis F, Am, Dm G
© JW Bangalore Feb 2008-09
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RED MAN, WHITE MAN
Molecules
Deep in nature's forest, or beside a flowing stream
Across the prairies, hunting hoof and horn
Standing proud upon a hill as in some ancient dream
Watching round the campfire till the dawn
The red man lives in harmony with all that he surveys
His ancestors before him lived the same way without strife
The pipe of peace, the wigwam and the tried and tested ways
Traditions that ensure unhurried life
The red man stands and listens, a hand cupped to his ear
The sounds of changes coming, the white man drawing near
The white man looks around him, a gleam is in his eye
With work he can control it all, the earth the sea the sky
Clearing nature's forests and damming up the streams
Churning up the prairies with the plough
Fortifying the hilltops, shattering the dreams
The old ways must give way to new ways now
The white man brings technology to tame the savage beast
With gunpowder and whisky, iron and coal and steel
To challenge and do battle sweeping in from the cold east
The totem pole surrenders to the wheel
The red man stands upon the hill, he's seen it all before
However much you give them, they're always wanting more
The white man stands beside him, the gleam still in his eye
With work he has transformed it all, the earth the sea the sky
What prevails and conquers is rarely what is best
The march of progress beats its own base drum
The strongest victor takes it all, to hell with all the rest
It makes you fear for conflicts still to come
The red man stands and shakes his head, the battle is now lost
His ancient people swept away, and never mind the cost
Verse: F, G, C (B) Am, G, F, E, Am (bis)
C, G, Am, G, F, E, Am
F, G, C (g) Am, G, F, E, Am
Chorus: Am, Dm, Am, Em; Am, Dm Am G; Am
© JW 2004
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THE SILENCE
Molecules
I have seen beyond the edge of darkness
I have watched them stoke the fires of hell
I have seen such horrors in the blackness
But of these things my lips will never tell
I marched with armies over fields of battle
O'er blasted heath and ragged death-tree hill
Mud and blood and sudden mortal combat
As face to face you have to make the kill
I sailed the convoys 'cross the cold Atlantic
Bringing food and weapons that they gave
Trapped inside a floating metal coffin
While U-boats cruised unseen beneath the waves
I flew the bombers over fields and fenland
Destroying dams and yes, the cities too
Flying on through fear and flak and firestorm
Doing what we knew we had to do
Doing what I knew I had to do
For I have seen beyond the edge of darkness
I have seen them stoke the fires of hell
I have seen such horrors in the blackness
But of these things my lips will never tell
Capo fret 3 Picked - (Bom bom Da, da-bombom da, da bom)
First and Last Verse
A9, A9baseG, A9baseF bis
A9, G, D
A9, A9baseG, A9baseF bis
A9, G, Am or D
Middle Verses
F, G Am
Em, Am
F, G, C
Em, Am (poss D)
© JW 2005
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TAPESTRY
Tapestry
Such is the warp, such is the weft,
Such is the warp and the weft of the tapestry of your life
You receive both nature and nurture, moulding your mind and your views
Who you'll be is mostly determined, while you are still too young to choose
Some are born to win, others to lose
Such is the warp, such is the weft,
Such is the warp and the weft of the tapestry of your life
Like a girl you see on a dance-floor, while another smiles through the half-light
It's just chance who you meet, who you stay with; others drift into the night
Can anyone tell you for certain who would have been right?
Such is the warp, such is the weft,
Such is the warp and the weft of the tapestry of your life
Like a train you see in a station; should you board it, or p'raps you should stay
Do you know your end destination? Do you care, at the end of the day?
Do the choices you make change your life ... in any real way?
Such is the warp, such is the weft,
Such is the warp and the weft of the tapestry of your life
Am, Em; Am, Em; Am, Em, F, G*, Am (chorus) * the timing syncopates a bit here
Dm, C, G, F: Dm, C, G, F: C, G, F (verse)
3/4 time. I have capo on fret 3
© JW 2006
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ULICAMA
Tapestry
Gledaj starog covijeka u zatvorenoj trgovini
Gura stare novine s umornim nogama
Nema svijetla u okovima, glava je pala pognuta
Jucerasne novina, s jucerasnim novostima
Onda zasto ti mislis da ti si usamlen
I mislis da sunce ne sija
Ja cu te voditi ulicama Zagreba
I otkrit ti nesto, i predomislit ces se mozda
Gledaj stare zene, koja seta ulicama
Kosa neprljavna, i rupe u haljini
Nema vrijema govoriti, vrijema samo jos setati
Nosi svega svijet u dvim malim torbicima
Onda zasto ti mislis da ti si usamlen
I mislis da sunce ne sija
Ja cu te voditi ulicama Londona
I otkrit ti nesto, i predomislit ces se mozda
Diacritic signs to be added for true authenticity
Adaptation / translation by JW and Natasa Hajcic 1970
The original debt to Ralph McTell utterly acknowledged
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WRAETLIG
Molecules
Drawn by the city's fame, master craftsmen came
Building high with skill and care
Inspired by civic pride, archways leaping wide
Roads and bridges, parks and squares
Gates in mighty walls, lofty meeting halls
Spires and towers reaching high
Well-lit galleries, peoples' palaces
Battlements against the sky
All things that grow must die
All that grows will one day die
Generations passed, splendour cannot last
Discordant voices rent the air
With corruption rife, pride turned to civil strife
Buildings cracked without repair
Rusted gates slammed shut, as the lights went out
Parks and squares heard not a sound
Halls an empty shell, soon the buildings fell
Towers crumbled to the ground
The wheel turns and moves on round
The wheel turns and moves on round
Capo fret 4
Am, descending
Dm, descending
© John Waller 2003
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XIAO SHAN
Molecules
Back to the sky, face to the earth; that's how it's been since the time of my birth
That's how it will stay until the day I die, face to the earth, back to the sky
Dynasties come, dynasties go;
The work stays the same, painful and slow
Guiding the buffalo, turning the soil;
Hand planting, harvesting; back-breaking toil
Rumours are spreading, we hear them every day
Cities are leaping like tigers they say
Up here in the villages, nothing to earn
Our children are leaving, and will not return
Back to the sky, face to the earth; that's how it's been since the time of my birth
That's how it stays until the day I die, face to the earth, back to the sky
They're building a dam on the river below
Waters will rise, all my land will go
The new Party Secretary says it's for the best
But he takes his cut, and the state takes the rest
I'm too old to change, what else could I do?
Old ways disappearing, I can't face the new
It used to be our custom, old men received respect
Now only money matters, all you see is neglect
Back to the sky, face to the earth; that's how it's been since the time of my birth
Only when I die will they turn me so I lie,
With my back to the earth, and my face towards the sky
Chorus: A, D, E, D, A: A, D, E, D, A
Verse: E, D, A, E, D, A. A, D, E, D, A
Capo 3 or so
(c) JW 2006
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YER BIKE
Liberator
I started in shipbuilding in the yards of the north east
I laid the keels and shaped the hulls that sailed the seven seas
The pride was in the work my friends, a ship's a noble thing
Despite the hard conditions, we made the shipyards ring
But as the empire faded so the orders were all lost
As rising powers in the east could build for half the cost
My place of work was all closed down, I was cast aside
Cranes fell silent on the Tyne; my working life denied
Get up and on your bike again, that's what we were told
You'll have to find another job, onwards down the road
So I cycled down to Barnsley, to dig and hew the coal
With pony and canary, it was better than the dole
The pride was in the work my friends, with comradeship as well
Despite the hard conditions, the seams as black as hell
But Mrs Thatcher came to power with fire on her breath
She came to take the unions on, a fight unto the death
My place of work was all closed down, it left a bitter taste
Communities left destitute, an industry laid waste
Chorus
So I cycled 'cross to Grimsby, to join the trawling trade
With stocks of cod and whitefish there were fortunes to be made
The pride was in the work my friends, the fellowship of the crew
Despite the hard conditions, the icy winds that blew
But boats from far away sailed in, techniques we wouldn't match
Illegal nets and factory ships, they came and stole our catch
My place of work was all closed down, the boats laid up in docks
Trawlermen upon the shore, their lives upon the rocks
Chorus
So I cycled down to London to work in telecomms
With DVDs and G3 phones and a host of new dot.coms
The pride was in the work my friends, all cutting edge and new
Despite the hard conditions, and London prices too
But soon the dot.com bubble burst and left us high and dry
And paper millions disappeared in the twinkling of an eye
My place of work was all closed down, I was out upon my ear
I had to find another trade, another new career
Chorus
So I cycled out to Saltmarsh, a call centre on the dunes
There I answered telephones with patter and bland tunes
No pride was in the work my friends, just hatred of the boss
And pity the poor punters, fobbed off with little cost
But soon the bosses realised they were paying us too much
The minimum wage and comfort breaks and all that left-wing stuff
My place of work was all closed down, the notice just one day
They're moving the whole business to a suburb of Bombay
Chorus
But I don't know where to go now friends, I don't know who to trust
And I don't know why our heritage has turned to so much dust
What pride is there in work my friends when changes come so fast
Is this the new millenium, where nothing's built to last
|
C, F
C, G
F, C
G, F, C
Am, Em
F, G
Am, Em
F, G
C, G, F, C
F, C, G, Am... G
|
© John Waller 2002
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