Lyrics

Vasco Da Gamba

Une occasion pour faire le boogie.

I take the hand that leads me out
onto the floor where voices will.
My head is clear but my heart gives out
so I die a death but can’t stand still.
And I will follow where you lead
but please be careful not to step on me.
O lead me on, my heart grows strong
This body shakes, but my soul quakes.

You hold me close and let my head
rest upon your grateful shoulder.
Understanding what is not said –
ideas floating, growing bolder.
Remembering this precious time
I asked the heavens were you mine,
And if they said “don’t look ahead”
I would grow no older, but rest on your shoulder.

To whom I belong at this moment,
you there with prospects can have my number now.
A view for which I long –
des gens, et un lieu, et une occasion pour faire le boogie.

I called to you in my hour of need
when the night was young and the pain alive.
This heart of hope was prone to bleed
and the hidden memories came out to jive.
Faith felt inclined to hang around
though kindness lay flat out on the ground.
In my hour of need, prone to bleed,
With the pain alive, I will jive.

To whom I belong. . . . . . .

(Instrumentals)

To whom I belong . . . . . . .

I will find her

I will find her.
I will find her in the hills.
Though she milks the pain and fires arrows at my heart.
I will find her
by a river in the glen.
That look does not become her but I know her heart.
And when the showers are over and her eyes are nearly dry
And she remembers how we were before the sun left the sky
I will find her.

I will find her.
I will find her on the street
though she walks on by and turns her head away.
I will find her
drinking vodka at the bar.
Her words do not become her but I know her way.
And when the heat is over and she settles herself down
and remembers why she ever needed to leave town
I will find her.

I will find her
In a corner of my room
Passing judgement on hypocrisy she reads in every book.
I will find her
Beating hard upon my chest.
That last kick to the groin has done me.
And when the fight is over and our positions made clear
And we remember how it felt to have lived without fear
I will find her.

Come on on in.

I imagine love waiting
I imagine waiting patiently
I imagine love waiting
distracted only by the sound
of approaching fulfilment

I imagine love thrilled
I imagine truly smitten
I imagine love thrilled
only partly aware that sacrifices
will have to be made

Give us a break and hold scepticism.
Grab a life and bring it along.
Sit or dance whatever you can manage,
but come on in,
come on on on on in.

I wish it were otherwise
I wish, but then again . . .
I wish it were otherwise
but maybe the ego has to come
to some understanding

Give us a break and hold scepticism.
Grab a life and bring it along.
Sit or dance whatever you can manage
but come on in,
come on on on on on on on on in.

but come on in
come on on on on in.

Friends/Dreams

My feline friend plays the violin
and the notes – eyeo – sound with the bow.
Her fingers fly and the neighbours cry
And the church bells ring,” it’s a sin
for a cat to play the violin”.

My bovine friend can run and jump
and the crowd go “oo!” and she goes “moo!”
She’s like a spring, a delicate thing,
and the preacher’s word is,” that’s absurd –
for a cow to vault its own turd”.

Hey, hey, hey, there are lovers out there
running away to dreams in the air.
Dishes and spoons with no place to go.
The table is laid, but I’m far too slow.

My canine friend is a jolly wee pup
And he’s living proof when he barks “woof, woof”
That a cat with a string and a cow with a spring
The priest will shun saying, “it’s not done
That a dog should laugh to see such fun”.

Hey, hey, hey . . . . . . .

La, la, la, la, la, la, la

Hey, hey, hey . . . . . .

(improv.)

Hey, hey, hey . . . . . . .

Love will not speak its name

No man is an island
No man is an island
Strong though the wind and the rain
Fast flowing currents remain
No man is an island
No man is an island

This man walks a causeway
This man walks a causeway
Strange though the tongues in the air
Loose fly my thoughts everywhere
This man walks a causeway
This man walks a causeway

Though I have an eye for the truth hidden
Though I have an ear for the sound whispered
Love will not speak its name
Love will not speak its name

Thoughts from the mainland
Thoughts from the mainland
Remembering hope and despair
Experiencing negligence and care
Thoughts from the mainland
Thoughts from the mainland

Though I have an eye ………………

(Instrumental)

Love will not speak its name

Exile on the High Street.

If you could see me now.
Our tandoori has a way of making people smile.
We do home deliveries.
And Shaski’s bought her second Chinquaquento.
When I stay in the house on Mondays
I remember the steaming heat of Dhaka
and my eyes melt with the thought of you.
And my eyes melt with the thought of you.

You would laugh at me now.
People open their mouths wide worshipfully.
Ever the orthodontic hero.
And the children have perfected their Fife patois.
When I lock up the surgery
I look down the lamplit street and thank my God –
No more bomb-damaged shopfronts.
No more bomb-damaged shopfronts.

Is this where us children played?
When the schoolbell rang we jostled into line.
There I worshipped teacher.
Now I walk the tourist trail with a map in my mind.
I find the street where granny lived,
the house where I cried in her arms,
“hold me close, but not too tightly now.”
“Hold me close, but not too tightly now”.

Smile

Words, words, words –
not always necessary, not always needed.
Words, words, words –
restrictive and strictly limiting.
Looks of understanding,
thoughts both humorous and grave.
I am caressed by you smile.
I am caressed by your smile.

La, la, la –
sounds from unseen lips.
La, la, la –
inspired by the presence of an angel.
Awesome and overwhelming,
speechless, even dumbfounded.
The moment is frozen in your smile.
The moment is frozen in your smile
Hush now my child.
May you find peace and be at rest.

Hush now my child.
Be still, let these arms enfold you.
Let your tears flow free.
Let your heart be stilled.
Be re-assured by her smile.
Assured by her smile

rudder in the air

footprints
fill up then disappear
bird-cry
upon still water
exposed rock
revealing sea wrack
stranded ketch
rudder in the air

seaplane
turning down the loch
descending
upon dark waters
slices through this ancient runway
first time for some
rudder in the air

spirit
hovering over water
waiting
for the word to be spoken
middleman
go-between and fixer
guiding
rudder in the air

How do you pronounce your name?

36D in a cheap backstreet club
raising the passions of an ogling crowd.
breaking through the smoke with the sway of her belly
she welcomes retreat as a friendly shroud

one man prepared like an abbatoir victim
laid before the sharpened knife
exposed while his heart still beats
never to be clothed again with life

stripped the one way
spurned by what they say
flayed so the air becomes your pain
sucked of the spirit
soul in neutral
how do you pronounce your name?
how do you pronounce your name?

sacrificed like Cortez victims
screaming out their godheads name
while young blood flows from the temple
to rekindle hatreds flame

stripped the one way . . . .

( improv )

stripped the one way . . . .

Go – go

The thought of us dancing
with me at your shoulder.
I was just a stripling
but you were so much older.
Twirling around passed the trees and the sky.
Letting me down when I scream or cry.
So life enhancing
it made me feel bolder.

I remember us walking,
me holding your hand.
Passionately talking
about our poor land.
Discussing the blacks and the whites and the greys.
Looking in hope for more peaceful days.
There I was chalking up
all that we planned.

A picture of you crossed my mind –
sometimes still, sometimes slow,
sometimes standing looking around
wondering which way to take
on this journey I go –go.

I spoke of your ways
to some passing friends.
They said it was a faze
and like most fazes would end.
Well maybe they’re right and maybe they’re wrong
and maybe your love is just a well scanned song.
But I will live out my days
and what’s broken I’ll mend.

A picture of you . . . . . . .

Artwork By Ruth

Clueless

She was always working the dance-floor
She was always knocking on my door
But if ever I paid attention
it was never my intention
and never my wish to hold out for more
I was deaf
I had no idea
Never recognised the song
I had no idea
what I heard

Love looked into my eyes
Love delighted in seeing my surprise
But I was far too preoccupied
looking to the other side
and only ever listening to more lies
I was just blind
I had no idea
Never recognised her face
I had no idea
what I saw

Calling,she was calling out my name
Calling me while I hid in shame
If I had had the courage
if I had but the will
and understood what was real and what a game
But I was dumb
I had no idea
She touched my heart
I had no idea
how she felt

P. Smyth

Veronica

Veronica,is that you walking with me?
I cannot see you clearly for the sweat in my eyes.
I have always loved you, but the words would not come.
In truth I have cursed your name up to the skies.

Veronica, is that your towel on my face?
I can smell your sweet perfume but I must keep walking.
Hold my hand if you want (I have wanted it held so badly).
The gun I have aimed at your head will be dropped when
we're talking.

Straight and narrow on a hot summer's day.
Upright tall and proud.
Regaled in fresh pressed Sunday best -
for all the world a shroud.

Veronica, blood covers my hands,
stains my heart and breaks yours in two.
Ahead is a field with a tree where I'll hang myself high.
Is that you pushing me away? Now what am I gonna do?

Straight and narrow . . . . .

Veronica!

P. Smyth

Picnic Time

If you're going up to the woods today
I don't think that would be wise
If you're going up to the woods today
You'd better go in disguise
For there's a man if ever there was
Will gather men to follow his cause.
Today's the day they're gonna have a picnic
Today's the day they're gonna have a picnic

Why go up to the woods today
It'd be better to stay at home
But if you have to go up to the woods today
You'd better not go alone
'Cause every man who fights for a cause
Will gather there to meddle in laws
That makes today the day they're having their picnic
That makes today the day they're having their picnic

Picnic time and heaven knows
As far as it goes they're enjoying the day
Watch them,catch them unawares
For soon their words will give them away
See them gaily gad about
They love to play and shout
They never give a shit.
When time is up and countries are ruined
They'll hold their heads up high
And say "We had to do our bit"
.
Every shady deal that's been done
Is sure to be done today
There's lots of marvelous things to eat
And wonderful games to play
Beneath the trees where nobody sees
They'll hide and seek as long as they please
'Cause that's the way these teddy bears have their picnic
'Cause that's the way these teddy bears have their picnic

Picnic time..................

(Inst.......................)

Picnic time..................

P. Smyth

adapted from music by Bratton ,words by J.Kennedy
(permission sought)

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