Lyrics

the best day of our life
(i guess you'd call it) a moveable feast
washed up in london
forgive me now for all the sins
the ballad of the old dun cow
shame
deborah smiles when she cries
waltz of the luxemburg gardens
the good old city boys
pebbles on a beach
baltimore
dance with me
ces gouvenments de criminels

the best day of our life

The rain was falling pitter- patter out of the sky
There was nothing much to do but watch the clouds rolling by
We sheltered in the doorway of a shop
We kissed and cuddled up and prayed the rain would stop
But then again who cares about the weather
As long as you and I are together
This will be the best day of our life

We try to find a beer, but the bars are all closed
So we settle for a coffee – it comes back instant and cold
Decide to see a movie, but we’ve seen them all before
And anyway the first time, they were a bore
But tell me who needs stars in a movie, with your starry eyes to move me
This will be the best day of our life

Oh please believe, believe in me
Believe me when I say I love you
Oh please believe, believe in me
Believe me when I say I love you I love you I love you I love you

Don’t listen to the hardened words of cynical fools
Who tell you love comes down to psychological rules
Illogical and crazy we will always be
We’ll make the best the worst, the worst the best – be contradictory
Who cares if this whole world is mad, as long as I’m with you I’m glad
‘Cause this will be the best day of our life

moveable (i guess you’d call it)
a moveable feast

fella from brazil stops me in the street
wants some real English cooking – give his family a treat
real english cooking, mate? – well, have you tried the pub?
or if you wander down the high street, there’s all kinds of english grub

we’ve got balti, we’ve got kebab, we’ve got cous sous, we’ve got chow-mein
chop-suey, souvlaki, burger, chips and thai
moussaka, dwami, curry and pork pie
every kind of cooking from the west and from the east
i guess you’d call it – a moveable feast

he says your dress sense is quite interesting - is that real English clobber ?
you don’t quite look a punk – you don’t quite look a rocker
you’re clearly not a skinhead – i’d say you’re merely bald
and if you were a gentleman your umbrella would be rolled

i wear levis, russian army surplus, balkan gypsy earrings, cheap chinese t-shirts
a kaftan, an afghan, a cuban panama,
an old hawaian beach shirt, a japanese guitar
every kind of clobber from the west and from the east
i guess you’d call it – a moveable feast

he says, what do you do for a living? i say i play music
he says, what kind of music is that then? and I say….well
is it real english music like in real english pubs?
like the beatles or abba or screaming lord sutch?

i say it’s reggae, it’s rhumba, joe strummer, it’s tragga
it’s bangra, it’s hip-hop, it’s polka , jig and reel
it’s cajun, it’s tango, it’s rock n’ roll and rai and ska
it’s every kind of music from the west and from the east
i guess you’d call it a moveable feast

he says back home in brazil they’ve got every ethnic mix
but he’d like to know the difference between the english and the brits
in rio de janeiro it’s an ethnic carnival
but you english must be really pure with your asylum rules n’ all

i say we’re vikings, we’re romans, anglo-saxons, we’re jewish
we’re normans, we’re celtic, cornish and jamaican
indian and chinese, african and asian
every kind of human from the west and from the east
Iiguess you’d call it a moveable feast

washed up in london

What am I doing in this city? Why am I breathing in these fumes?
Who are these grey unhappy people?Do they look like you?
Do they look like you?

Why is there never any night sky?
Why is the only place a pub, where I can wash away the eveing?
Where I can wash away the rust
Wash away the rust.

Washed up in London. I once had a reason but I can’t remember
Why I came to London. I once had a reason but I can’t remember why

I must have come here for employment. Or for the discos and the clubs
Or maybe for an education. Or just to fall in love.
Just to fall in love.

One day when I have saved the money. And when my future is secure.
I’ll buy a place out in the country. A little cottage by the shore.
A little cottage by the shore.

Washed up in London etc….

I must have been here twenty years now, and I’ve been planning ever since.
I can’t remember why I came here. Sometimes it makes me wince.
It makes me wince.

One day when I have saved the money. And when my future is secure.
I’ll buy a place out in the country. A little cottage by the shore.
Petula Clark and Sandy Shore.

forgive me now for all the sins I have not yet committed

forgive me now for all the sins I have not yet committed
for I am but a weak frail man and the devil, he is after me

forgive me now for all the pounds I’ll spend when I can’t afford ‘em
on whiskey, beer and fellows near, although I cannot stand ‘em

forgive me now for the lusty thoughts I have when a woman’s glancing
and the late nights home we’re bound to have when we two go a-dancing

forgive me now when I call your mum the things I’m really thinking
and that your dad will bust his sides and blame it on the drinking

forgive me now when I call the priest a two-faced cheap deceiver
and anyone who’s mad enough to say he’s a believer

forgive me now for all these sins but most of all forgive me
that if you ever went awy darling that would kill me

forgive me for I love you more than any god in a heaven
and if I sin it is to you that I look to be forgiven

it was half past two on a windy night walking down the old kent road
with a drink in my hand and a girl in my heart but not a penny to my soul

the bouncers were outside the old dun cow when a drunk hit the gutter and swore
with a drink in his hand and a glass in his eye he was cursing the day that he was born

he said son if there’s one thing not worth it, it’s love and it’s drink and what’s more
don’t believe that money can help you ‘cause it’s good for nothing at all

then he took out a fistful of readies that he’d won on the dogs that day
he pushed them into my hand and he fell in the gutter and he stayed that way

was I right was I wrong ? who can tell me/ I took the money and ran
there wasn’t a copper in sight on the street and I didn’t have blood on my hands

it was half past two on a windy night, I was walking down the old kent road
I took a taxi and I went all the way to the woman inside my soul

now if anybody tells you your luck will never turn,
tell them the story of the old dun cow and the drunk with money to burn

one man’s up is another man’s down, it’s roundabouts and swings
just when you think you’re down and out, your lucky ship comes in

shame (que verguenza!)

i was born inside a question with no answer for a name
i rambled down the road of life, no sign to guide my way
they say the world got smaller, but maybe it just shrunk
if the devil’s in the detail god ain’t dead he just got drunk
i found love inside a bottle, it was cold and it was wet
i’m not breaking down in tears, i’m just working up a sweat
oh I may be a bad man, a waster and a cheat
but remember that the devil wears a suit and shines his teeth

shame o shame! i’ll always be the same
i’ve gone and done some bad things – my heart is full of pain
shame o shame! it’s a life gone down the drain
i’m a thievin’ cheatin’ waster – but i’d do it all again

i met a man in paris – or maybe he was in a suit
he was selling hot religion from a travellin’ trailer boot
when he poured the water on me, it boiled into a flood
now there’s famine in the desert and there’s drowning in the mud
the jungle trees have fallen just to grow cocaine
a stash of crack to fill my sack and ease my wasted brain
the ocean’s daily rising, the world is turning blue
there’s a whole up in the ozone god could push his manhood through

que verguenza! siempre asi sere
me hecho cosas malas que me darla fiebre
que verguenza! un vida malagastada
soy cadron y cabroncito
pero siempre la sere

we’ve got star wars top protect us – it takes a bomb to know a bomb
the emperor bush, the burning bush, may burn till kingdom come
o i may be a bad man, a waster and a cheat
but remember that the devil wears a suit and shines his teeth
he will tell you he’s a good man, he won’t tell you he’s bad
he will promise you salvation – all the things you never had
and when your soul is sold, when you’ve given him your vote
he will tie you to disaster, steal your purse, cut your throat

deborah smiles when she cries

she’s living on a sixpence, she’s grounded in her wheels
her eyes stare out to everywhere, god alone knows how she feels
her neck is twisted sideways, her eyes roll in their space
she dribbles and she stammers, so inscrutable her face
deborah smiles when she cries

i’m the entertainer, I’m here to turn out songs
to help her feel human, to sense a little fun
but it’s all roll out the barrel, it’s a singalongashow
the average age is ninety
and deborah is just twenty years old

her mother takes her hand, she has to travel thirty miles
to see her in a nursing home for the aged and the dying
neither government nor charity could find the extra cash
to pay for care support at home
so deborah’s mother pays the price

and I’m singing in the middle of a happy old aged throng
everybody knows the words, everybody knows the song
when jenny, she’s just sixty, in her wheelchair
decides that she will dance with me
so she wheels around me there

she wheels and she wheels, a dabhand with the controls
we do the wheelie okey-cokey, the wheelie rock n’ roll
and Deborah just explodes with joy, she lets out such a scream
her hands lash out excitedly, she howls and she beams
to see her jenny dancing, in that whirling wheelie chair
and my heart it breaks a thousand times to know deborah is there
deborah smiles when she cries

she wheels and she turns, she kicks and howls and screams
she judders and she grimaces, she laughs and she beams
and thank god there is no god, for there’s just one god I believe
who could do such things to people, one I never want to meet…
deborah…

now deborah is tired, she’s laidback in her chair
her mother takes her languid hand and combs her tousled hair
i’m on my way back home, i’ve earned my bit of dough
i’ll complain about the weather and the traffic on the road
but what right have i to criticize or feel my lot’s unfair
when every colour, every taste, every breath in life is fellt
while deborah is there
and deborah smiles when she cries

she strolled down the lanes jardin du luxemburg
picking up pebbles to throw at the world
for her love had gone
gone to another one

her heart was downcast as she twisted and turned
to a waltz in her mind like a merry-go-round
for her love had gone
gone to another one

the statues stared back an indifferent look
for this girl was sixteen
and could surely still book
on another romance that would lift her again
from the sorrow and sadness
the anguish and pain
but she stared them right back
and she swore in their eyes
for she knew in her heart it was true
it was best not to love again
she’d never love again

a statue of eros took pity and smiled
stepping down from his pedestal
led her aside to another world
they danced in another world

they waltzed down the lanes jardin du luxemburg
to the gold eiffel tower and the bright
champs de mars of another world
they danced in another world

the ladies of the rue de rivoli were distressed
to see such a young girl
with a statue undressed
dancing into the bars down the broad boulevards
in the cafes and shops
in maxim’s restaurant
they circled the roundabouts place san michel
while the nuns hid their eyes
outside old notre dame
they waltzed over the pont neuf
and into the night
and by dawn she was happy
and swore that she must be in love again
she was in love again

THE GOOD OLD CITY BOYS

The Judge is high on vintage wine - the claret packs a punch - the bishop with the trollop has his head locked in a crunch!

There's hordes of City brokers gathered round Canary Wharf, sinking pints of Stella - she's a Belgian tranny dwarf!

I swear Mahatma Ghandi's doing massage on the side, for sad and leary pensioners who've lost all sense of pride.

The Brigadier retired has his medals in a twist, snorting Angel Powder through the cankers on his fist.

Chorus: The Boys! The Boys! The Good Old City Boys! They're drinking all the money and they're making all the noise! The women act like animals and the men they play with toys! I tell you oh the nights I've had with Good Old City Boys!

The Corporate Chief Executive is getting in his stride, breathing out tobacco fumes on Frankenstein his bride!

The Nouveau Riches of Algate east are speeding in their Fords, open-topped and button-flied, they'll rip your bloody chords!

They'll sink away the filthy waste behind the ghetto state and smash their glasses down before they ram them in your face.

The Bull is in The Market, the Bear is acting coy. Like Premier MacMillan said 'Let's hear it for The Boys!'

Chorus

The Etons Boys they roll in mud, Harrovians like a spank. An eighteen stone dominatrix is money in the bank.

Corinthians, Cantabrians, the Singers of St.Paul's, they dope it up and sink it down and wrap it round their balls.

Policemen Metropolitan, barristers in drag, a handshake ceremonial from an old Masonic hag - we've seen it all, we've done it all, we've staggered in the void. I tell you oh the nights I've had with Good Old City Boys!

The trouble with society is the great unruly mob, who never get invited to the right St.James's Club.

They're amateurs, the working trash, they binge away the day, but they'll never match the City Boys for ways to waste away.

We'll vandalize the planet, scorch the jungle, boil the seas, melt the fucking Arctic, rain down acid on the trees!

The shares will grow, the profits rise! We'll make it to The Void! The dirty, filthy rotten poor got nothin' on The Boys!

 

 

 

 

pebbles on a beach

ballerinas come dancing to me on the edge of the open sea
every one of them dancing in the sand
every one of them breaking like a dream

down by the sea, put out the boat again
storm building high, as we swim against the tide
as we swim against the tide

and see those pebbles on a beach go tumbling down the shore
pebbles on a beach go tumbling down the shore

there’s a whisky bar in new Orleans
a dancer has danced her life away
every movement she makes she sells her soul
the sailors dance around her

out on the street, put out the boat again
storm building high
as we swim against the tide
as we swim against the tide

and see those pebbles on a beach go tumbling down the shore
pebbles on a beach go tumbling down the shore

the waters run deep, the waters run high
from new orleans to the beaches of thailand
the skies thicken up with dirt and smog
the oceans get hot, the storms rise up
we don’t rule the waters, we don’t rule the shore
we’re not great mountains,we’re not great lords
we’re pebbles on the beach, stones in the sand
we tumble in the water when it covers the land

all the passengers on a moving train
where the poppies grow the bodies lay
the rocks disappear beneath the waves
are we drowning? are we saved?

far out to sea, put out the boat again
storm building high, as we swim against the tide
as we swim against the tide

and see those pebbles on a beach go tumbling down the shore
pebbles on a beach go tumbling down the shore

baltimore

Oh won’t you sail to Baltimore, feel the wind blowing in your hair
My one true love, she is waiting there
Where they count the stars and pin them down
Paint the shells all gold and brown
Build a rock in which to hide
Cast a stone into the tide
Fix their eyes upon the sky
And never ever wonder why
We’re here
Yes, we’re here
Oh we’re here
In Baltimore
We sailed a boat to the western shore, from Swansea Bay to the Cove of Cork
We sank a glass in McCarthy’s Bar
Watched the old man walk his dog
Made a home in Fuschia Lodge
Sailed out to Sherkin Isle
Walked the Beacon and Loch Igne
Fixed our eyes upon the sky
And never ever wondered why
We’re here
Yes, we’re here
Oh we’re here
In Baltimore
Now, if at first, your true love says “no”, then sail a boat out to Baltimore
Could take ten years, who knows, maybe more
But one day, you’ll count the stars and pin them down
Paint the shells all gold and brown
Build a rock in which to hide
Cast astone into the tide
Fix your eyes upon the sky
And never ever wonder why
You’re here
Yes, you’re here
Oh you’re here
In Baltimore

dance with me

I’ve been in the kitchen, throwing up
It’s all a part of growing up
About to flake out on the old settee
I’m staggering round with half a cup
Of what I’ve just been bringing up
About to lose all sense of dignity

Then I see you standing all alone
And wondering to yourself
‘Where oh where oh where can True Love be?’
I pluck the courage from the air
I take your hand and ask you then and there
To dance with me

Dance with me, with a million stars reflected on the sea
And the gentle swaying rhythm of a softly playing samba from Brazil
Dance with me, in the coolness of a southern ocean breeze
And the gentle swaying rhythm of a softly playing samba from Brazil
Dance with me!

We samba round the living room
Out of breath and out of tune
Caring very little how we seem
I think we must have met before
In a previous life I’m sure
When we both spoke fluent Portuguese
Then another man comes on the scene
He takes you in his arms
Twirls you back and forth across the party floor
Pretty soon we dance as three
Ménage a trois, your bloke and me
Cheeky monkey asks me for one more

Dance with me….etc.

ces gouvenments de criminels

Ils suppriment les pauvres, favourisent les riches

Des ouvriers, ils s’en fichent

Disent des conneries comme la Tour de Babel

Ces gouvernements de criminels

Ils mentent aux gens, ils trompent la public

Ils cachent la verite, personne n’y voit rien

Ils empoissent le monde, politique dispotique

Ces gouvernements de criminels

Neo-Nazi-Crypto-Fasciste

Un visage liberal, un esprit racist

A Moscou, a Washington, a Londres, a Bruxelles

Ces gouvernements de criminels

Agents provocateurs de la lutte de classe

Ils augmentent les differences entre riches et pauvres

Une main de fer dans un gant de velours

Ces gouvernements de criminels