Disk 1
1. The Morning Star of the Revolution
2. The Roots of the Liberty Tree
3. The Idle Talker & Driniker at the White Hart Social Club, Lewes
4. The Editor of the Pennsylvania Magazine
5. Rosa’s Lovely Daughters
6. Reflections on Unhappy Marriages
7. Don’t Get Married Girls
8. Independency
9. Common Sense
10. The Wall That Stands Between
11. The Times That Try Men’s Souls
12. 3 Minute’s Silence
13. The Right of Man Part I
14. Remembrance Day
15. The Old Construction
16. We All Said Stop the War
Disk 2
1. The Rights of Man Part 2
2. Monarchy
3. On Her Silver Jubilee
4. ‘Riots & Tumults’
5. Picking Up the Pieces
6. Wages & Rights
7. Oliver Twist
8. Countries That are Called Civilised
9. Palaces of Gold
10. High Treason
11. The Defect Lies in the System
12. Changing the Guard
13. Execution & War
14. The Terror
15. Citizen Pain
16. The Age of Reason
17. Stand Up For Judas
18. Applause & Abuse
19. The Life of a Libeller
20. Red & Green / The World Turned Upside Down
DISK 1
ROSA’S LOVELY DAUGHTERS
Who’s that walking miles for water?
Who’s that sweat shopping all day long?
In the hot south, in the cold north,
Who are these so proud & strong?
From the work bench in the back room
To the cradle beside the bed,
From the Mad Mothers to the Peace Campers
Who are thse seeing red?
These are Rosa’s lovely daughters,
These care no man’s blushing brides,
These are Rosa’s lovely daughters,
& they will not be denied.
Now their fathers handshake their bargains
& their good wives stand around & weep,
But their hearts sing when they’re dancing
“We are no man’s to give or to keep”.
These are Rosa’s lovely daughters…
Me, I’m skewed, slewed, stewed & awkward,
Me, I’m clumsy luke a clown,
But these are wildfire in the backyard
& the big White House is burning down…
These are Rosa’s lovely daughters…
DON’T GET MARRIED GIRLS
Don’t get married, girls, you’ll sign away your life
You may start off as a woman but you’ll end up as the wife
You could be a vestal virgin, take the veil and be a nun
But don’t get married, girls, for marriage isn’t fun.
Oh it’s fine when you’re romancing and he plays a lover’s part
You’re the roses in his garden, you’re the flame that warms his heart
And his love will last forever and he’ll promise you the moon
But just wait until you’re wedded and he’ll sing a different tune.
You’re his tapioca pudding, you’re the dumplings in his stew
And he’ll soon begin to wonder what he ever saw in you
Still he takes without complaining all the dishes you provide
But you see he has to have his bit of jam tart on the side.
So don’t get married, girls, it’s very badly paid
You may start off as a woman but you’ll end up as the maid.
Be a daring deep-sea diver be a polished polyglot
But don’t get married, girls, for marriage is a plot.
Have you seen him in the morning with a face that looks like death?
He’s got dandruff on his pillow and tobacco on his breath
And he wants some reassurance with his cup of tea in bed
Cos he’s got worries with the mortgage and the bald patch on his head.
And he’s sure that you’re his mother lays his head upon your breast
So you try to boost his ego, iron his shirt and warm his vest.
Then you get him off to work, the mighty hunter is restored
And he leaves you there with nothing but the dreams you can’t afford.
So don’t get married, girls, men are all the same
They just use you when they need you, you’d do better on the game.
Be a call-girl, be a stripper, be a hostess, be a whore
But don’t get married, girls, for then you’ll be all four.
When he comes home in the evening, he can hardly spare a look
All he says is ‘What’s for dinner?’, after all you’re just the cook
But when he takes you to a party, he eyes you with a frown
And you know you’ve got to look your best, you mustn’t let him down.
Then he’ll clutch you with that ‘Look what I’ve got’ sparkle in his eyes
Like he’s entered for a raffle and he’s won you for the prize.
But when the party’s over, you’ll be slogging through the sludge
Half the time a decoration and the other half a drudge.
So don’t get married, it’ll drive you round the bend
It’s the lane without a turning, it’s the end without an end.
Change your lover every Friday, take up tennis, be a nurse,
But don’t get married, girls, for marriage is a curse.
Then you get him off to work, the mighty hunter is restored
And he leaves you there with nothing but the dreams you can’t afford.
THE WALL THAT STANDS BETWEEN
On one side there is power and the luxury to choose
On the other side are empty hands and nothing left to lose
And the wall that stands between them rises higher every day
And the razor wire is razor sharp to slice your heart away
And don’t you know you won’t be welcome?
They’ve got ways, they’ve got words to keep you down.
He said: We had to leave, I don’t know why.
We had no food. We walked for days and days.
We chewed on leaves. We drank from muddy pools.
My mum got taken sick, I watched her die.
The desert burned my throat, I ached with fever.
I think my uncle carried me across.
I don’t know how we got past the men with guns
And that great barbed wire fence that stretched for ever.
You see these hands? The scars are still blood red.
And now they want to send us back, he said.
One one side there is hunger in a waste land of despair
On the other side is plenty and plenty still to spare
And the wall that stands between them…
She said: The soldiers came, we had to flee.
We ran so fast we left the dog behind.
The dog was howling, howling on his chain.
I wanted to go back and set him free.
My dad grabbed at my hand and yelled out ‘No!’.
I heard a bang and then the howling stopped.
Still in my dreams I hear my poor dog howling
And when I wake I cry because I know
I have no home and now my dog is dead.
And all because we ran away, she said.
On one side there is terror and the charred flesh of war
On the other side are arms deals and profits set to soar
And the wall that stands between them…
He said: They took me, beat me black and blue.
They asked me questions, made my body scream.
When I come here, I say the things they did.
They lock me up, they say it isn’t true.
My head is full of ghosts, sometimes I weep.
I don’t know where my family has been taken.
This place is bad, a prison camp with guards.
At night I walk the room, I cannot sleep.
I ask asylum, they lock me up instead.
I think one day I’ll kill myself, he said.
One one side there is torture where silence drowns the screams
On the other side is charity and a market selling dreams
And the wall that stands between them…
3 MINUTE’S SILENCE
They said we ought to have 3 minute’s silence,
I thought: the dead of two world wars only get 2 minutes,
But then most of them didn’t speak American…
They said we ought to have 3 minute’s silence,
But all that I could hear was all these voices, screaming,
& most of them didn’t speak American.
I heard ghost voices from Hanoi & Hiroshima,
I heard ghost voices from Beirut, ghost voices from Baghdad,
& the Secretary of State was saying: this is a price worth paying…
half a million children dead in Traq, that’s a price worth paying… ?
They said we ought to have 3 minute’s silence,
of course, Wall Street when it stopped could only afford 1 minute.
& then the million dollar bombs rained down
On a poor land where they don’t speak American.
No more bombs & silences,
I think we ought to have a different kind of justice.
REMEMBRANCE DAY
It was Remembrance Day at the Cenotaph
The rain was falling fast
The Queen was there with her entourage
Watching the Old Comrades march past.
There were wreaths of scarlet flowers
And we wore our poppies with pride
The brass bands played funeral music
And one or two people cried.
When Big Ben chimed eleven
We solemnly bared our heads
And stood for the two minutes’ silence
To remember the glorious dead.
It was at that sacred moment
That I heard an eerie sound
A ghastly, ghostly stirring
Seemed to come from under the ground.
And a voice rose up out of the darkness
A voice that was coarse and ill bred
Saying ‘I am the voice of the fallen
And I am the voice of the dead.
I speak for the silent slaughtered
The ones who rot under the grass
And we don’t want your two minutes’ silence
So stuff it up your arse.’
Then I thought I heard an explosion
And a kind of a sob or a laugh
And a strange aroma of corpses
Hung round the Cenotaph.
The Queen stood straight as a ramrod
And none of the mourners stirred
In spite of the two minutes’ silence
No-one had heard a word.
Though it seems a small bunch of fanatics
Had tried to dishonour the day
By shouting ‘Remember Iraq’
But they were soon hustled away.
Then the two minutes’ silence was over
And we heard the wind and the rain
And from Horse Guards Parade a gun sounded
And normal life started again.
It was Remembrance Day at the Cenotaph
The Queen was dressed in black
And the bishop conducted a service
For the ones who never came back.
WE ALL SAID STOP THE WAR
I keep seeing us everywhere, as far as the eye can see,
It’s like some river overflowing…
We got muslims, we got Christians, we got pagans, we got Jews,
We got atheists, anarchists, socialists… we even got a liberal or two,
On the day we all said Stop The War.
We keffiyahs, we got T shirts, hijabs & rainbow scarves,
We got placards that say we’re angry, we got placards that make you laugh,
We got whistles, badges, banners, 10,000 djembes & a salsa band,
We got pensioners, we gor pushchairs, arm in arm & hand in hand,
On the day we all said Stop The War.
We got the actress & the bishop, we got tankies, we got Trots,
& some got extra sandwiches in case their mates forgot,
We got respectable housewives from suburbia who’ve never done this sort of thing before,
& the International Sex Workers of the World united, with the boy & the girl next door,
On the day we all said Stop The War.
We got that what’s’ername from off of the telly, we got that bloke I met called Steve,
But we are more than just this 2 million, we are Ramallah & Tel Aviv,
We are New York, Paris, Berlin, Moscow, Cape Town, Cairo, Bangkok to Glasgow,
It’s like some river overflowing,
On the day we all said Stop The War.
DISK 2
Lyrics
ON HER SILVER JUBILEE
I remember, I remember when my world was hardly grown
And the daughter of a dead dull king ascended to the throne
And though I was just a lad at school, I saw it all with scorn
The solemn, sacred emptiness, the monumental yawn
And the slime exuding daily from the sycophantic slugs
And the Coronation ash trays and the Coronation mugs
And the rows of ermined mummies with their maggot-eaten brains
All the swarms of bloated blowflies the majestic turd sustains.
Droves of decorated duchesses like newly painted slums
Kneeling flunkeys, praying monkeys, loyal holes for royal crumbs
And the well-heeled sharks discreetly selling tickets for the show
Park Lane balconies with champagne at a thousand quid a throw.
Come and cheer the golden fairy Queen, forget your daily cares
For she radiates a glory that a grateful nation shares
And the pageantry, the panoply, the sanctified decay –
But I knew the hour was coming that would sweep it all away.
Now time has me in a corner and I’m moth-eared from the fray
But Her Majesty is reigning still today.
With a glass cage around her and an absence in her eyes
And though regiments surround her, they can’t take her by surprise
She’s as poised as a picture, she’s a sight for all to see
With a glass cage around her on her Silver Jubilee
with a glass cage around her she feels free.
I remember 1956, division East and West
British paratroops in Suez, Russian tanks in Budapest
And the peaceful marchers singing for the dream that must come true
Of a world freed from the nightmare we’ve since grown accustomed to
And the Cuban missile crisis with the rumours flying round
That the Queen was in her secret bomb-proof palace underground
And the violence exploding when anger made a stand
For a peasant people burning in a torn and tortured land.
And the Monarch walked her corgis behind the palace wall
Never once betraying what she felt or if she felt at all.
While her husband shot his mouth off like a walking blunderbuss
She gave birth to royal children with the minimum of fuss
Maintained her waxwork dignity as she trod the royal dance
Fulfilled her royal functions in a kind of royal trance
Balmoral, Ascot, Sandringham, the ship launching routine,
Palace banquets, garden parties ever smiling and serene
Unique symbol, model woman, never seeing, always seen
so we watched her as she played at being Queen.
With a glass cage around her etc.
She seems so commonplace a woman in her fuddy-duddy hats
But she doesn’t stand in bus queues or live in high-rise flats
And she doesn’t ride the rush hour or cycle down the Strand
And she doesn’t play maraccas in the Ivy Benson band.
And she doesn’t shop for bargains, she’s never on the dole
And if she does the football pools she doesn’t tell a soul.
And she never used to bother with the Inland Revenue
Though she’s royally rewarded for the things she doesn’t do
With palaces and properties and to keep her in good cheer
A working wage of 36.7 million pounds a year
A royal train, a royal plane, a costly royal yacht
And lucrative investments in only God knows what.
Oh the magic of the monarchy, the mystery sublime
Growing gracefully and effortlessly richer all the time.
She’s the rock of hope and glory in the quicksand of despair
For although the pound may tumble, although panic fills the air
Although governments may crumble and the cupboard’s nearly bare
Though the stairs begin to rattle and the rats begin to stare
She enfolds in mystic unity her subjects everywhere
And we know we’re safe from harm while Nanny’s there.
With a glass cage etc.
PICKING UP THE PIECES
We ride the train to work & read the news
The news is bad again, what else is new?
The pensioner who’s murdered on page 4
Page six has more bombs in a far-off war.
But then you see the skyline & the river in the sunlight
& every day, it takes your breath away,
& you look at all the faces with their stories and their secrets
Getting through another working day.
& our leaders making speeches,
They’re very good at making speeches,
How our soldiers have to be there,
& how we will not surrender,
But you never see them riding on your train.
We ride the train back home & read the news,
There’s not much on TV, what else is new?
The beggars hold out hands to catch the night,
The smart hotels and cafes shine so bright.
But then you see the skyline & the bridges with their lamplight,
& even now, it takes your breath away,
& you look at all the faces with their stories and their secrets
Winding down another working day.
& our leaders making speeches…
We ride the train to work & read the news,
You thank your lucky stars it wasn’t you,
It wasn’t you in Baghdad or Madrid,
Or on the train from King’s Cross when the bombs came home.
Picking up the pieces, picking up the pieces,
Picking up the pieces, picking up the pieces,
& our leaders making speeches
How our soldiers have to be there
& how we will not surrender
& you’re picking up the pieces
But you never see them riding on your train
When the bombs come home.
OLIVER TWIST
Oliver Twist, who doesn’t exist, apparently now,
Sits at the back picking his scabs in my Literacy Hour,
But he’s dreaming such dreams…
The Minister says: these are the ways we raise standards.
But which box do you tick when Oliver Twist’s thinking in rainbows?
& dreaming…
His Grandad Tim Winters, 2 teeth left like splinters, says: well I was the same.
So it’s nobody’s fault, if you’re on income support, you’ve got yourself to blame
for dreaming…
In the canteen, there’s cabbage & beans & the odd dead samosa,
But you have to choose between a pudding & a juice if you’re on free school dinners,
Both would be dreaming…
Oliver Twist, now you just look at the state you’re in.
There’s a box you can tick for a new nuclear submarine.
There’s a box you can tick for some Olympic Games,
But pudding & juice, that would be dreaming.
That would be dreaming…
Oliver Twist, now you just look at the State we’re in….
PALACES OF GOLD
If the sons of company directors and judges’ private daughters
Had to go to school in a slum school
Dumped by some joker in a damp back alley
Had to herd into classrooms cramped with worry
With a view onto slagheaps and stagnant pools
Had to file through corridors grey with age
And play in a crackpot concrete cage
Buttons would be pressed
Rules would be broken
Strings would be pulled
And magic words spoken
Invisible fingers would mould
Palaces of gold.
If prime ministers and advertising executives
Royal personages and bank managers’ wives
Had to live out their lives in dank rooms
Blinded by smoke and the foul air of sewers
Rot on the walls and rats in the cellars
In rows of dumb houses like mouldering tombs
Had to bring up their children and watch them grow
In a waste land of dead streets where nothing will grow
Buttons would be pressed…
I’m not suggesting any sort of a plot
Everyone knows there’s not
But you unborn millions might like to be warned
That if you don’t want to be buried alive by slagheaps
Pitfalls and damp walls and rat-traps and dead streets
Arrange to be democratically born
The son of a company director
Or a judge’s fine and private daughter.
Buttons will be pressed
Rules will be broken
Strings will be pulled
And magic words spoken
Invisible fingers will mould
Palaces of gold.
CHANGING THE GUARD
On sundays we’d watch the soldiers march at Windsor Castle,
With their drums & their busbies, er Majesty’s Coldstream Guards,
& my mum would say how it made her feel so proud to be British,
& sometimes I still find the loss of that childhood land hard.
Changing the Guard
Changing the Guard
All that they’re doing is
Changing the Guard.
But I clenched my fist & played rhythm for world revolution,
Though in Paris & Prague the same writing both sides of the Wall.
On sundays we’d meet in Hyde Park for each great demonstration,
But whoever you vote for the government wins after all.
Changing the Guard
Changing the Guard
All that they’re doing is
Changing the Guard
Changing the Guard
For the sake of appearances,
Changing a few of the names,
Changing the Guard
For the tourists
& more of the same…
But I’ll give you this song & the bag of old bones that goes with it,
There’s some potcards of castles, some badges & maps you can’t trust
Cos they’re well out-of-date but the problem’s still: how do we change the world?
& in all of this shit there’s still one or two things that don’t rust.
We’re changing the Guard
Changing the Guard
All that we’re doing is
Changing the Guard.
STAND UP FOR JUDAS
The Romans were the masters when Jesus walked the land
In Judaea and in Galilee they ruled with an iron hand
And the poor were sick with hunger
And the rich were clothed in splendour
And the rebels whipped and crucified hung rotting as a warning.
And Jesus knew the answer
Said ‘Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s’
Said ‘Love your enemies’.
But Judas was a Zealot and he wanted to be free
‘Resist,’ he said, ‘the Romans’ tyranny.’
So stand up, stand up for Judas and the cause that Judas served
It was Jesus who betrayed the poor with his word.
Jesus was a conjuror, miracles were his game
And he fed the hungry thousands and they glorified his name.
He cured the lame and the leper
He calmed the wind and the weather
And the wretched flocked to touch him so their troubles would be taken.
And Jesus knew the answer
‘All you who labour, all you who suffer,
Only believe in me.’
But Judas sought a world where no-one starved or begged for bread.
‘The poor are always with us,’ Jesus said.
So stand up, stand up for Judas and the cause that Judas served
It was Jesus who betrayed the poor with his word.
Jesus brought division where none had been before
Not the slaves against the masters but the poor against the poor.
Set son to rise up against father
And brother to fight against brother.
For ‘He who is not with me is against me’ was his teaching.
Said Jesus ‘I am the answer.
You unbelievers shall burn forever
Shall die in your sins.’
‘Not sheep and goats,’ said Judas, ‘but together we may dare
Shake off the chains of misery we share.’
So stand up, stand up for Judas and the cause that Judas served
It was Jesus who betrayed the poor with his word.
Jesus stood upon the mountain with a distance in his eyes
‘I am the way, the life,’ he cried, ‘the light that never dies.
So renounce all earthly treasures
And pray to your heavenly Father.’
And he pacified the hopeless with the hope of life eternal.
Said Jesus ‘I am the answer.
All you who hunger, only remember
Your reward’s in heaven.’
So Jesus preached the other world but Judas wanted this
And he betrayed his master with a kiss.
So stand up, stand up for Judas and the cause that Judas served
It was Jesus who betrayed the poor with his word.
By sword and gun and crucifix, Christ’s gospel has been spread
And two thousand cruel years have shown the way that Jesus led
The heretics burned and tortured,
The butchering, bloody crusaders
The bombs and rockets sanctified that rained down death from heaven.
They followed Jesus, they knew the answer,
All unbelievers must be believers
Or else be broken.
So put no trust in saviours, Judas said, for everyone
Must be to his or her own self a sun.
RED & GREEN
I dreamed the old dream just last night,
Red & green, & going home,
I dreamed of no wars left to fight,
Red & green, & going home,
I dreamed of those who know no rest,
Red & green, & going home,
The refugee & the dispossessed,
Red & green, & going home, (& so on, red & Green lines 2 & 4 rach verse)
Submarines ploughshared the sand,
& bactories turned to fertile land…
We healed the sick & the obscene,
The leper & the limousine…
We saw our likeness in each face,
& with each kindness gathered grace…
So broke the walls of greed & fear,
With love to all things living here…
These are old dreams, nothing new,
Of yet to come, nonetheless true…
THE WORLD TURNED UPSIDE DOWN
In sixteen forty nine to St George’s Hill
A ragged band they called the Diggers came to show the people’s will
They defied the landlords, they defied the laws
They were the dispossessed reclaiming what was theirs.
We come in peace, they said, to dig and sow
We come to work the land in common and to make the waste ground grow
This earth divided we will make whole
So it will be a common treasury for all.
The sin of property we do disdain
No man has any right to buy and sell the earth for private gain
By theft and murder, they took the land
Now everywhere the walls spring up at their command.
They make the laws to chain us well
The clergy dazzle us with heaven or they damn us into hell
We will not worship the god they serve
The god of greed who feeds the rich while poor folk starve.
We work, we eat together, we need no swords
We will not bow to the masters or pay rent to the poor
Still we are free though we are poor
You Diggers all stand up for glory, stand up now.
From the men of property, the orders came
They sent the hired men and troopers to wipe out the Diggers’ claim
Tear down their cottages, destroy their corn
They were dispersed – but still the vision lingers on.
You poor take courage, you rich take care
This earth was made a common treasury for everyone to share
All things in common, all people one
We come in peace – the orders came to cut them down.
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