1. |
A Comforting Refrain
03:28
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Johnny don’t like the new songs any more
He says ‘sing us something that we’ve all heard before
About vapouring, capering stylish young blades’
But I says to him no, I’ve a new song I’ve made
Because the tides will come and go
while we're waiting here on pause
And we’re dredging up our misery for the laughs and the applause
If there's one thing I've learned
From being stuck with you in the past
It’s once they've unlatched that door we'll all be ushered out fast
So here’s a new ballad, a comforting refrain
If you’ve not heard it before then let us sing it out again
If we can’t scream our sorrow then we’ll never purge our pain
So raise up a glass and we’ll sing it all again
TRUSS, SUNAK, JOHNSON AND ALL OF THEIR LIKE
Sail them down the shitty river, with their heads on a spike!
If we can’t scream our sorrow then we’ll never purge our pain
So raise up a glass and we’ll sing it again
Bad luck to you all with your balls and your jigs
Your home counties pack have smothered my pigs
Get back to your rotten old diesel fume ditch
You can’t remember the words and you can’t sing in pitch
I wish one last time I could dig up for you
Something to look at our life from anew
But Johnny he just wants that old familiar taste
Supt up like slurry from the riverside waste
So here’s a new ballad &c.
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2. |
Two Sides to a Hedge
04:26
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This side the hedge, two “Golden Youths”
Safe, they deemed, ‘neath its leafy screen
Close behind sat pretty Bell
As fair a lass as e’re was seen
“Why don’t you seek the maid at once
And make her name the happy day”
“Well” he replied “She’s rather plain
Yet when I’ve time perhaps I may”
He never gave a thought to the proverbs that allege
There’s two words to a bargain and two sides to a hedge
TWO WORDS TO EVERY BARGAIN!
TWO SIDES TO EVERY HEDGE &c.
Now she grew fairer day by day
The pride of all the country side
O’er head and ears in love fell he
And vowed he’d make the belle a bride
“Oh Bell I love you more than life!
Oh name, I pray, the happy day!”
“Well” she replied “I’m rather plain
Yet when I’ve time perhaps I may”
He never gave a thought to the proverbs that allege
There’s two words to a bargain and two sides to a hedge &c.
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3. |
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As I lay slumbering in a dream
Methought the world most strangely went
The bayliffs on high seats was seen
Which caused the poor’s great discontent
They plucked true justice from its throne
Creating laws made of their own
Burdened the poor till they made them groan
And that’s the cause the land complains
Methoughts a mighty hunting match
Was made by bayliffs and their curse
Poor men the deer they strove to catch
And hang them in a room of furs
The suburbs round us was their park
The bayliffs got the dogs to bark
Our homes was packed like Noah’s Ark
And thats the cause that the land complains
That’s the Cause that The Land
That’s the cause that the land complains
They’ll swear before they'll ever lack,
They’ll go to hell a pick-a-pack
Send poor debtors to the rack
And that’s the cause that the land complains
When I awakened from my dream
Methoughts the world turned upside down
So in great haste I writ this Theme
For the Bayliffs Dogs of our town
Who for their prey each hour do wait
Like death at every poor man’s gate
And brings him to a dismal fate
And that’s the cause that the land complains
The tallyman, curmudgeon keeps
A bayliff and his dog to bite
If in their books we ever creeps
They quickly swear they’ll have their right
Who gets enticed by these Bumms
Who swear they ne’er will pay their sums?
The poor in flocks to the jailor comes
And that’s the cause that the land complains
That’s the Cause &c.
Ten groat’s the fees, and a crown the arrears
And three round noughts for a writ beside
Thus laws are broke, poor men appear
Such racking torments they abide
And while the prisoner sends for bail
They tope the brandy, beer and ale
And make him pay or they have him to jail
And that’s the cause that the land complains
For twenty shillings, ten or five
They’ll put a man to cursed charge
To send him to jail they’ll soon contrive
Where other bills are writ out large
The jail fees all are bound to rue
The garnish, bed and turn-key too
Expects an unexpected due
And that’s the cause that the land complains
That’s the Cause &c.
Your Moore Field mobs and Whetstone Whores
Has bayliffs and their dogs for friends
When lustful youth pays Venus scores
Those sponging pimps the house attends
If cullies fight in a drunken fit
Away goes Tory’s dog for a writ
Thus many falls in the Bayliff’s pit
And thats the cause that the land complains
Thus to conclude and end the song
And put us in a land content
We must put right what’s been put wrong
And justice find our parliament
I hope true reason pleads our cause
While we’re creating wholesome laws
To keep us from these Bayliff’s claws
And cease the poor of the land’s complaints
That’s the Cause &c.
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4. |
Rigs of the Time
03:32
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The lights are all turned off, there’s no one in town
‘cept those Exxon shareholders who ride up and down
If you ask them the reason they’ll say ‘bon alas
Some Russian dictator just pumped up our gas’
Honesty's all out of fashion
These are the rigs of the time, time, my boys
These are the rigs of the time.
So here’s to the landlord, I must bring him in
Overcharging each month, he thinks it no sin
The tenants pay up and wipe mould off the kitchen
But in two months for airbnb face evicting
Honesty's all out of fashion &c.
So here’s to our PM, I must bring him in
Like the others before him, who think it no sin
With only eyes for the lobby they lie through a grin
As we watch our lives wither through a perspex screen
Honesty's all out of fashion &c.
And here’s to the opposition, I must bring them in
For rattling small change in a populist tin
While the workers are striking for a decent day’s pay
Starmer writes for the Mail and looks the other way
Honesty's all out of fashion &c.
Now the very best thing that I could find
Is to hoist them on their hot air in a high gale of wind.
When the wind it do blow, the balloon it would burst
And the biggest old tory come tumbling down first.
Honesty's all out of fashion &c.
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5. |
A Lift on the Way
03:15
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In this busy life of trouble and strife
How many sad changes we see
There are faces that’s covered with sorrow and care
That ought to look shining with glee
There are poor working men whose labour is scarce
That struggle on day after day
But fortune’s cold frown it still keeps them down
So they can’t get a lift on the way
So bear well in mind, if to others you’re kind
I hope you’ll be rewarded some day
If a brother you find has fallen behind
Just give him a lift on the way
There is people with mansions so splendid and grand
Trouble scarce enters their door
Their house filled with treasure, their days spent in pleasure
And still they are craving for more
While a poor man with talent exceedingly good
To the workhouse is wending his way
To ask for relief and his heart filled with grief
For he can’t get a lift on the way
So bear well in mind, if to others you’re kind
I hope you’ll be rewarded some day
If a sister you find is fallen behind
Just give her a lift on the way
You oft times will meet a poor man in the street
Whose appearance is shabby genteel
Honest and true but his heart’s filled with woe
To poverty’s door he has fell;
Once by society courted so high
But misfortune has led him astray
Kind friends if you see a man down in this world
Just give him a lift on the way
Kind friends if you see someone down in this world
Just give them a lift on the way
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6. |
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Could I dream up a crimson sun as it drops from the western skies?
Could you conceive the bubbling stream
below the summer’s endless sighs?
Could I have cooked up your wildly swirling, ever gazing eyes?
OH NO we couldn’t make this shit up if we tried
Could I conjure up a suitcase of fine wines from Spain or France?
Could you envision pushing your fellow humaines
back in La Manche?
Could we devise a ministry for cutting noses from a face?
OH NO we couldn’t make this shit up if we tried
There’s a new kind of weather that’s landing on the beach
Still we wave the flags and hang the bunting just out of harm's reach
And in the same old rotting hulk we haul again on the same ropes
It’s hard to see a future, it’s hard to have a hope
But when we find around us truth, enlightenment and liberty
Will we believe the storms that raged on us
have somehow ceased to be
When we’ve dismissed their lying, money-serving,
life-destroying creed
We’ll sing we couldn’t have made that shit up if we tried.
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7. |
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Oh, Corporation, will you hear
This sad complaint frae me ?—
It's not about the brewers' beer,
Nor the brine frae the sea ;—
Of Neptune's water I complain,
Relief, I hope, you'll grant,
I pray yon let us have again
Pure water frae the Pant.
Oh, Corporation, think of this, Oh think again, canny Mayor ;
Oh, Corporation, think of this, And grant an awd wife's prayer !
Our skins and duds are yellow dyed
With iron, lead, and ochre,
Besides, our nerves are stiff and dried,
Just like a kitchen poker ;
You call yourselves Board of Health,
I dinna want to flatter,—
There cannot be much health, I think,
In pois'nous, dirty water.
Poor Geordy Dickie's trade is gane,
The awd wives' tea is spoiled,
Our eggs are just like a duck's foot
When in this water boiled.
There's Aqua Vity, Aqua Pure,
And Aquas—it makes ne matter ;
And now I ask you, one and all,
What Aqua's our Pant water ?
The water's pure, I'm very sure,
Still at the Fountain's head.
Therefore you must find out the cause—
From metal pipes or lead.
If not, ther'll be row, my lad,
Wiv tins, and pails, and skeels ;
And if we wives once set on ye,
Ye'll soon take to your heels.
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8. |
Johnny Sands
02:01
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A man whose name was Johnny Sands
Had married Betty Hague
And though she brought him gold and she brought him land
She proved a dreadful plague
For oh, she was a scolding wife
Full of caprice and whim
He said that he was tired of life
And she was tired of him
Rye falla, rye fallarum fallarum, and she was tired of him
Says he ‘then I will drown myself
The river runs below’
Says she ‘I wish you would, you silly elf
I wished it long ago’
Says he ‘upon the brink I’ll stand
Do you run down the hill
And push me in with all your might’
Says she ‘My dear I will’
Rye falla, rye fallarum fallarum, says she ‘My dear I will’
For fear that I should courage lack
And try to save my life
Pray won’t you tie my hands behind my back
I will, replied his wife
She tied them back, as you may think
And when securely done -
Now stand, says she, upon the brink
And I’ll prepare to run
Rye falla, rye fallarum fallarum, and I’ll prepare to run
All down the hill his loving bride
Now ran with all her force
To push him in - but then he stepped aside
And she fell in , of course
Now splashing, dashing, like a fish
‘Oh save me, Johnny Sands’
I can’t my dear, though much I wish
For you have tied my hands
Rye falla, rye fallarum fallarum, for you have tied my hands
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9. |
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Squeeze me down to the fairground lights
Book a place for the moon, the sky’s full tonight
We could stroll on the seafront boards
Looking at drinks we can ill afford
And then crawl home on a midnight bus
But like the bread, you're all crust and no guts
My skeleton was built to last
But maybe these bones have outlived my heart
That's why I'll never go away with you,
That's why you'll never go away with me
And yet we'll never be far apart, sat on the corner of a photograph
You think that you're above the rules
A murmuration for those gaping fools
You blaze your trail on a fading sky
While picking the pockets of passers by
Who can't just drop it all and leave
To live like seagulls drifting on the breeze
I reach to you from the promenade
But you're too far gone to rejoin my path
That's why I'll never go away with you &c.
I wouldn't mind being left alone
A figurehead on a grounded boat
They don't know the storms we've seen
Or the people we might have been
Before they clear the deck, send us back to the night
Lets empty the bottle, put the world to rights
And before you tire of my voice and my gaze
I'll put my heart back in its case
That's why I'll never go away with you &c.
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10. |
Pour Another Whiskey
03:12
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I woke up today in your aviator shades
Sprawled out like some murder scene
Stuck to the bleach on the vinyl floor
While those old stars above are tough and they're mean
We were beermats dancing nimbly round this tattered upholstery
It was dark but it didn't rain down here
A stumbling mess on Victorian steps
Our crumbling nights collapsed into the morning fear
But alone once more, I'll sit and pour the whiskey out myself
I missed the train while you set sail…
Who thought you'd be the first one to bail?
I’ll pour another whiskey
Another whiskey by myself
Condensation and damp under low hanging lamps
Our words dissolved in the flooded ashtrays
The metal shutters were always gonna shut on us sometime
But why the hell d’you have to leave me in this place?
Alone once more, I'll sit and pour the whiskey out myself
Sleeping in the car while you set sail, who thought &c.
The record still goes round the years after the side’s ran out
And empty drunken hopes they fade into the day
And if I never turned the lights on again
I wouldn’t have to see you walk away
And so alone once more, I'll sit and pour the whiskey out myself
I got the text today that you set sail, who thought &c.
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11. |
Better than the Boneyard
03:55
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Well I swear I seen a slobbering beast going round on two legs
Walks like a man, talks like a man
But a beast nonetheless
Responds to earthly pleasures
And the sound of his own name
But when I see him strutting around our town
I hang my head in shame
But still it’s Better than the boneyard
Though the good folks have left this place
It’s better than the boneyard
Though they left us with the devil down here to chase
Still it’s better than the boneyard
And correct me if I’m wrong
We got to pick up the baton where we find it
Dust it down and carry on
Well he may be living in your phone like something you can tame
Walking the walk, talking the talk
But evil all the same
His words crawl round your heart like vines
Strangling the thoughts in your head
But if you see the warning sign ahed
take a different road instead
To where it’s better than the boneyard…&c.
He may ride your algorithms like a putrid sewage wave
Calling names, shifting blame
Like a keeper who can’t save
But he’s neutered, splayed, microchipped
He’ll slope off back to the night
If you keep making strangers welcome
And you treat your neighbours right
You’ll make it better than the boneyard &c.
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Julian Gaskell UK
Described by angry locals as the bastard son of Waits, Strummer, Reinhardt and Rachmaninov, Julian Gaskell’s music over the last 20 years has followed a wayward path of withering agricultural-folk, klezmer accordion, overly-lyrical punk, gypsy-jazz guitar, tangos, waltzes, rhumbas and skiffled-up boogie-woogie piano. ... more
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