Handmade Life ( RUFCD999)
No Honey Tongued Sonnet
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men I’m sorry but they haven’t a clue
How to put all the pieces together again it’s just going to have to be you
The careers advisor was useless what was the poor man to do
When all that I want in the years I’ve got left is a simple life lived next to you
Could do much better if he paid attention and wasn’t the clown of the class
He’s a little disruptive and such a show-off the kid is a pain in the arse
It was more than misunderstanding the fact is not one of them knew
Who was standing in front of them nobody did till the heaven sent day I met you
We never did Shakespeare nor none of that stuff so this isn’t a honey tongued sonnet
No sugar no spice no je ne sais quoi this is doggerel with nothing much on it
But the one thing I did learn in English is she favours the tongue that is true
So for all of the blood the sweat and the tears thank you my darling thank you
Two Widows Walking
Two widows walking
Beneath the trees they go among the forest cover
One will always be a year behind the other
Two widows talking
Just as the rain comes in it’s another summer shower
Hand in hand they stand in the dappled dripping bower
No tent or stuff but camping rough
Their friendship and their grief are load enough
To carry on their backs
Two widows walking
It’s raining harder now and the day is bleaker
Press on to leave their grief a little weaker
Two widows talking
Their voices raised for they are lost she has not heard her
The compass spins to loose their grief a little further
It’s not a race but there is grace
As they keep on at the ancient healing pace
From the Severn up to Skye
Two widows walking
The sky is clearing now and the day is brighter
The cloud will lift their grief a little lighter
Two widows talking
Down by the quay they tell their story to the sailor
The sun will bleach their grief a little paler
Spitfires
Sometimes in our Kentish summers we still see Spitfires in the sky
It’s the sound
We run outside to catch a glimpse as they go growling by
It’s the sound
There goes another England sacrifice and daring do
And a victory roll or two
From the drawing board to the hand of the factory girl upon the lathe
It’s the sound
It’s ordinary men and women with an ordinary part to play
Theirs was a gritty England workers playtime got them through
And an oily rag or two
But sometimes I hear the story told in a voice that’s not my own
It’s the sound
It’s a “Land of Hope and Glory” voice an Anglo-Claxon overblown
It’s the sound
Theirs is another England it hides behind the red the white and the blue
Rule Britannia no thank you
When I hear them Merlin engines in the white days of July
It’s the sound
They sing the song of how they hung a little fascist out to dry
My Darling’s Downsized
From Monday to Wednesday it’s business as usual
So what’s so unusual about my sweet dear
She’s altered she’s different she’s just so spectacular
She’s what we got wed for she’s keen and she’s clear
Because Henrietta has just had the good sense
And she’s wrote them a letter in which they’re advised
That Henrietta has made a decision and from this day forward
My darling’s downsized
Just last Wednesday evening she kicks off her work shoes
I pour her a large one and I tell you no lies
She swigs and she shimmies and looks to the bedroom
Then she looks at me with those great big blue beautiful downsize eyes
Now the sun in the morning somehow seems brighter
And everything’s righter than it was before
The coffee is richer the eggs over easier the breeze is just breezier
And the there’s cuddles galore
She bakes some rock cakes I lay a fire
I light the touch paper but I don’t retire
Because my love for her cannot be overstated
It’s deep and it’s not final salary related
Because Henrietta has just had the good sense
And she’s wrote them a letter in which they are advised
That Henrietta has made a decision and from this day forward
My darling’s downsized
The allotment society application she’s made
She’s put our names forward and she’s bought me a spade
And when old father summer time raises his head
We’ll be up there to prepare our celeriac bed
I’ll dig us a trench then I’ll join her in sitting
Up close on the bench and we’ll watch the spuds chitting
Then I’ll pinch out some carrots she’ll squish some black flies
Then she’ll look at me with those great big blue beautiful downsize eyes
Because Henrietta has just had the good sense
And she’s wrote them a letter in which they all are advised
That Henrietta has made a decision and from this day forward
The love of my life my best friend and my companion my darling’s downsized
Asparagus
Coming down through the allotments
Little kingdoms every one
I saw asparagus today
As though two snakes
A courting in the sun
They hissed and wished me go away
I wrote this with my back to them
And left them to their play
Hollow Point
Awake arise you drowsy sleeper awake arise it’s almost day
No time to lie no time to slumber no time to dream your life away
It was a gorgeous summer’s morning it was a gorgeous summer’s day
His cotton jacket was all he carried as he walked out to face the day
As he was walking he was wondering with a little dream as a young man will
He never heard footsteps behind him by the bus stop at Tulse Hill
But from his front door they’d had him covered they were right behind him from the start and thought the video was buggered someone decided he looked the part
Here comes the bus the front doors hiss he climbs aboard and so do they
And how he swings down into his seat it’s just another working day
But there was something in the air that morning as they came down to Brixton town they sealed the station without warning there was something going down
So he journeyed on and onward he called his friend just to explain
How he would be late and not to worry
And so to Stockwell tube they came
Now he’s on their camera he’s on their radar he’s on their crackling radios
His oyster card is in his pocket at ten a.m. through the gates he goes
And down and down goes the moving staircase and deeper down go the others too and through the hourglass the sand is falling there is nothing they can do
When the train comes in they’re right beside him some say three and some say four some say the cameras they weren’t working as he sat down just across from the open door if he’d’ve stopped if he’d’ve listened commissioner said that it was no good he said they “gave him no instruction that an innocent man would’ve understood”
Just a Brazilian electrician Christ only knows what he came here for but Hollow point was the ammunition it’s our turn now for some shock and awe
Awake arise you drowsy sleeper awake arise it’s almost day
No time to lie no time to slumber no time to dream your life away
It was a gorgeous summers morning it was a gorgeous summers day
His cotton jacket was all he carried as he walked out to face the day
Caesar
It’s all the little things are what we find that matter now the circus has left town
Did you see how all the clowns were looking fatter as they tore the big top down
It’s such a quiet revolution but as the callers jam the phones do you still believe in seeking a solution in the polling booth Mr Jones
The game they play is one that they invented they break their own rules every day so until we feel better represented d’you think they’ll mind if we don’t play
It’s such a quiet revolution but in our houses and our homes there’s no more mandate for your soiled institution not from me and not from Mr Jones
So we render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s we’ll toss a coin into his moat
He’ll say anything he can think of to try and appease us before he asks us for our vote this may look to be a very English revolution in our gardens and our homes we’re all praying here for some divine retribution there’s no more mandate for your soiled institution don’t you go asking for another contribution
not from me and not from Mr Jones
Johnny East
The word is out from street to street that little Johnny East is dead
They wrapped him in his winding sheet and placed a stone above his head
Sleep Johnny sleep
The relics of his reckless games little Johnny East is dead
His cars and trucks and ships and planes are in a box beneath his bed
Sleep Johnny sleep
The sun beats down and the winter rages little Johnny East is dead
And all the dust from all the ages settles down upon his head
Sleep Johnny sleep
There comes a time we cannot name little Johnny East is dead
When cars and trucks and ships and planes will stain the seams of rock rust red
Sleep Johnny sleep
Bed and toys and blood and bone little Johnny East is dead
All locked inside a seam of stone where shoals of shimmering fishes roam and unimagined sharks cruise overhead
Sleep Johnny sleep Hugh Lupton
Turtle Soup
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
Such a little ship ‘neath the tropical sun
A coffin class frigate with fourteen guns
And turtle soup for tea
The seas are slicked with teaming life
Like the crimson slit from the fish wife’s knife
You’ve never seen such in all your life
And it’s turtle soup for tea
And the tops of the date palms all bow west
Like the faithful chins on the faithful chest
The trade winds blow but God knows best
And it’s turtle soup for tea
And the negro girls in calico
With skin the colour of squid ink go
To the young geologist’s hammer blow
And it’s turtle soup for tea
The slave in Tierra del fuego
Who no longer flinched from his master’s blow
He knows something you don’t know
There’s nothing much for tea
The killing jars and the butterfly nets
The little notebook so you won’t forget
But you’ve not seen the half of it yet
You’ll not be home for tea
It’s Christmas eve in Wigwam Bay
The anchor’s slipped and the chain’s away
There’s scurvy grass on the lord’s birthday
And turtle soup for tea
Of all the little ships that left our shores
None brought a cargo back like yours
The church may shout but Darwin roars
At the age of twenty three
The Grand Correction
I’ve got my wood stove I’ve got my chainsaw and my mortgage is paid off
I’ve got my airgun I’ll eat rabbit instead of stroganoff
And the back garden’s planted with spuds from fence to fence
Let the grand correction commence
With my foraging handbook I’ll stuff myself for free
Cos old fatty Ray Mears he’s got nothing on me
And I’ll give you both barrels and I’ll call it self defence
Let the grand correction commence
There’s kids who want to buy a house and they’re sleeping on the floor
While other people out there own two or three or four
Well the heat’s coming down and it’s going to be intense
Let the grand correction commence
Them city boys are hard nosed not a superstitious lot
Yet their mantra is “The Market” it’s the only one they’ve got
If the house of cards is held up by nothing more than “confidence”
Then let the grand correction commence
And how strange then to call your accounting software “Sage”
And then hand out a mortgage for nine times the combined wage
If the new Blue Sky Thinking might include some common sense
Let the grand correction commence
And don’t forget the iron lady as if we ever could
The vicious old spiv who taught all how greed was good
How she sold off our nation and gave rise to this nonsense
And how we bowed down and worshipped her avarice and her ignorance
Now… Let the grand correction commence
Let the grand correction commence