
Links to Lyrics
SNAKES OR LADDERS (instrumental)
IT BE T'UNEMPLOYED GRAVE DIGGER
TWENTY FIRST CENTURY WORRIED MAN BLUES
| [Titles Below Link to Ogg Audio downloads] |
She’s on the Cambrian Line
And she’s running out of track
Trying in vain to find a friendly ear
If this train runs out of time
She won’t be coming back
She tries to tell her tale, but no one’s here
To listen to her song
Headed for the country on a run down rural train
Running from her inner city blues
She stares out at the rain on the misted carriage window
And wonders if she’ll get the chance to choose
The route she will now
Take with the future’s aging rolling stock,
Bumping over cracking buckling rails
Till the pulverising crash
When we all run out of cash
And our lifelines are all closed down in the aftershock
Of the hungry baby crying in the night,
The endless rumble of the motorcars
Of the rush to catch the train and the panic of her flight
Of orange street lights blocking out the stars, the stars
She’s on the Cambrian Line
And she’s running out of track
Trying in vain to find a friendly ear
She won’t be coming back
She tries to tell her tale but no one’s here
To listen to her song
Of orange street lights blocking out the stars
Orange street lights blocking out the stars
Orange street lights blocking out the stars
IT BE T'UNEMPLOYED GRAVE DIGGER
Once I worked with people, served my fellow son's of dust,
Now the council's laid me off, me shovel's caked with rust,
Ashes to Ashes, dust to dust, what a way to earn a crust,
It be t'unemployed grave digger.
Well a working man needs a little bit of luck.
It pays you to clock on, clock off before you kick the bucket.
With a pay check and a stiff, I never gave a fuck,
It be t'unemployed grave digger
Well the greasy rain oils the scalp of urban gloom,
I walk these streets for warmth in vain, the dole won't heat my room,
See the free corpse market thrive, yet they buried me alive
It be t'unemployed grave digger.
With me mattock in me hand and me pious mourner's face,
I could bury all your troubles till they rot without a trace,
Empty tank, stalled mortal coil, you may drill that North Heaven Oil,
It be t'unemployed grave digger.
So you think you're pretty healthy and you'll never end up dead,
Well I had a place to stuff you, it were worm's house lined with lead,
Now you're happy getting laid, you'll be laid out on your bed,
By t'prim faced undertaker.
Sometimes a human bone or two sprouted from the muck,
Once I found a skull stuck in a footpath's tar macadam,
Alas poor sod I didn't know his nameless head from Adam.
I was only the grave digger
Some say that higher spirit gaffers have a master plan,
To upgrade life, rebuild, re-tune a new eternal man,
His bladder is titanium, he need never hit the can.
It means unemployed grave diggers
I stood tall when my graveyard wellies clogged my sweating feet,
If I now had strength to lift a brick I'd riot on the street.
When the revolution comes, I'll dig black holes for the elite.
It be t'unemployed grave digger.
You drive along life's motorway, in high speed lanes to hell,
But my working hearse steered to the tomb, deaf to death's hard sell,
Toiling in the encircling gloom, cheers, I got on very well
As a fully employed grave digger
Once I worked with people, served my fellow son's of dust,
Now the council's laid me off, me shovel's caked with rust,
Ashes to Ashes, dust to dust, what a way to earn a crust,
It be t'unemployed grave digger
(Transylvanian Dead March with Left Bank influence)
a court bard dreams, holds in his hand
a horse skull on the trail
to a castle, hid in a wasted land
where a speared king bleeds in a grail
and watches rainbow fishes swim
in the well of merlin's palm
as world bruised knights-in-armour
urge their steeds to seek him
his true love is a secret tease
a romance virgin bride
who flies his dreams like starry kites
which dance in wind, dark, space
he begs her to tell what she sees
That fires her eyes and face
She'll tell her vision through the night
(then off side-saddle ride):
‘an axis shifts, a great globe tilts
‘the poles reverse their fields
‘vast cracks ope', the old king wilts
‘the dying landscape yields
‘mountain ranges fracture vales
‘fire-storm, blue bolt, flood
‘dry bed oceans, stranded whales
‘an horse shoe in the mud’
music: castle ramparts shake
the dream had swiftly gone
dawn came to his grey window,
then noon, a weird son shone
he slept dreamless till dusk, then wakes
his dry eyes ache for tears
in trembling courtyards far below
a stallion frets and rears
when morning comes i lie there sleeping
and mourning dewdrops hang there weeping
their pendant sadness
mirrors my madness.
i seek a refuge in tchaikovsky dream
spring flowers bow towards the setting sun
lovers and victims drooping everyone
power's headless vultures
scavenge rich cultures.
infants cry helpless to tchaikovsky dream
o morning rainbow o weeping dove
she cries in pain and she laughs in love
weeping rainbow, mourning dove
she laughs in pain, she cries in love
bulldozered corpses of dead history
top up the gas chambers of memory
the dying dancing
progress romancing
to lost illusions in tchaikovsky dream
dream dream dream dream dream dream tchaikovsky dream
dream dream dream a plundered scream
gunfire unheeding
love lies a-bleeding
as injured patriots flee tchaikovsky dream
o morning rainbow o weeping dove
she cries in pain and she laughs in love
weeping rainbow, mourning dove
she laughs in pain and she cries in love
when morning comes i lie there sleeping
and mourning dewdrops hang there weeping
their pendant sadness
mirrors my madness
sweet cruel mirage o tchaikovsky dream
i'll kick my shoes o'er my shoulders,
i'll let my glad heart rule my head,
concerning love I'll make it where
it will not get me wed
tired of unemployment
tired of nine to five
i goin' to travel from this land
i'm goin' to die alive
finished with yes sir no sir
cat out of three bags full
goin' to saddle up and ride
a wind bucked flighty seagull
i'm goin' to drain the horn of plenty
dance in barefoot dew
my easy mind is empty and I'm giving it to you
i'll busk in Eldorado
or even sing for free
and if there's nowhere left to go
i'll rustle like a tree.
watch salmon sunset display
spying fresh winking stars
swimming through the milky way
out to diamond pebbled shores
i'll take a slow boat to Venus
a day trip to the moon
if the Devil wants to eat us
he will need a longer spoon
india is waiting for Africa to call
and take her dancing to the drums
at the Darktown Strutter's Ball
out on the hourglass beaches
drinking the timeless sun
guitars making speeches
where the welcome refugees run
i'll kick my shoes o'er my shoulder
i'll let my glad heart rule my head
concerning love I'll make it where
it will not get me wed
tired of unemployment
tired of nine to five
i'm goin' to travel from this land
dance that sweet bee jive
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Bonzodrum™ is founded by Spamba percussion genius Basho. He sells you real Spamba rhythms. They come from Brazil, where the nuts come from. No musical ability at all is required, you just have to play, pay and obey, and it’s all taken care of for you. Basho has a brilliant no teaching method of teaching drumming. He urges us to simply feel the rhythms. Don’t think, just feel the sunshine rhythms! (It would help if you’re not too young and difficult to control! We don’t want to have to drum you out of the drums because you’ve got a mind of your own!). But yes, you don’t get mere drum teaching; you get full no teaching teaching. Any questions? –we just threaten you and send you to Coventry! Well we’re Zombies, we’re like that!
We only have three simple Bonanza Zombie Rules to obey
1.
Rule 1 is we have copywrited rhythm for you. So we own the rhythms you play after you have paid us for them. These Rhythms are what is called our intellectual property. Never write a rhythm down in case you remember it, because it’s ours! Just feel, pay and obey!
2.
Rule 2 is we sell you drums with our holy Zombie logo on them. We control what you play on them after you’ve paid us again. (You can get a community grant and pay us with somebody else’s money, if you know how to fill in forms or get help! (Europe warmly encourages best value rapacity building in the community). Of course to the Zombie there is no such thing as community, there is only the highly advanced spiritual world of Bonzodrum™.
3.
Rule 3 is we control your drums, we control your rhythms, and if you pay us more than enough, we control you too! No sense of rhythm, no worries! Pay our grand total, we depend on you, and for a grand or three you become totally dependent on us! Mindlessness frees Zombie mind!
4.
Rule 4 is you can’t play anything else, if we are not in control of it and paid more or less, generally speaking, unless of course we say so, and we can’t say fairer than that. (Confused? Just feel the rule!)
Next, a Special Offer: Give us your old drums and gladly we’ll let you pay gladly twice for the new ones. Doubly blessed by Basho! Money for old rope from the public purse!
What’s more, after more payment you can moreover wear our identical Zombie uniforms, so you won’t stand out in a crowd when you play with the Cult. Each Zombie is identically mind free. We are very local but also overseas too! We play about everywhere near and far right! No sense of rhythm? Just copy, right! � Sadly you can’t afford a uniform?
… just bugger off!
Our guru Basho is a nearly famous Spamba celebrity and he tells us all what to play, if we pay him again and again and again. As
we endlessly bow down and kiss his bottom, he composes rhythms, which erupt into the holy space between your ears like …
like runaway volcano spew. This means we really feel the rhythms and love Basho a lot.
Hey hep cats! Bonanza Zombie Drumming Cult! You know it makes sense!
Who knows, one day you yourself might service Basho at our level. You might soon be ordering around Zombie drummers yourself, and getting paid lots for it too like a real Spamba expert! Best of all, you don’t even have to pay to slim!
Contact Us !Just feel our email address. A qualified Bonzodrum™ teacher may be in touch to explain everything (if he’s paid a lot and he feels like it). Await his instruction with no fear!
It takes a no job man to sing a no voice song. (3X)
Unemployed, I’m always in the wrong.
It takes a worried man to sing a worried song (3X)
I’m worried now but I won’t be worried long
Sixteen miles sold down the river just to sign my name (3X)
Just a pawn in a sick computer game
Greedy right wing welfare cuts eat up poor kid’s food (3X)
Pay for tax bribes for the great and good
It takes a no job man to sing a no voice song. (3X)
Unemployed, I’m always in the wrong.
If anybody asks me, when do you sing this song (3X)
On the dole I sing it all year long.
Who has sinned against you, poor child, who is this bad neighbour (3X)
Born again new tories of slave labour
It takes a no job man to sing a no voice song. (3X)
Unemployed, I’m always in the wrong
Country’s longest dole queue was five million people long (3X)
And in that queue whole families, lost and gone!
Land of hopeful story, if the power mad cap fits (3X)
And I do not feel the benefits
It takes a no job man to sing a no voice song. (3X)
Unemployed, I’m always in the wrong.
It takes a worried man to sing a worried song (3X)
I’m worried now but I won’t be worried long
Worried worried worried worried worried worried song
Worried worried man, worried worried song
Worried worried worried worried worried worried song
I’m worried now but I won’t be worried long!
And I do not feel the benefits!
he's a no-rhythm man
living in a deadbeat land
drumming in his own small world for no one but himself
as to music has no clue
don't know who he's playing to
isn't he a bit like a mad alarm clock from hell
no-rhythm man are you drumming
while guitarists strumming
cannot hear a note they play
as singers are drowned out
goes to workshops to learn drums
soon gets bored so out he comes
smokes a spliff and contemplates a timeless universe
he's as happy as can be
hammering shit out of a djenbe
isn't he a bit like a mad alarm clock from hell
no-rhythm man are you drumming etc.
out to lunch stoned zapped and smashed
still the suffering skin is bashed
no-rhythm man drums on and on an awful lot
sooner or later he falls to sleep
his nerveless fingers miss the beat
flicking at his slack tuned drum on automatic pilot
no-rhythm man are you drumming etc.
when morning sunrise doth come
the poltergeist raps his deaf drum
peaceful sleepers shudder and awaken to their doom
no-rhythm man's loud drumming whacks
the dawn chorus stops in its tracks
isn't he a bit like a mad alarm clock from hell
lazy uncoordinated self-centred,
isn't he a bit like you and me?
i've been ploughed up, sowed up, built-up, poisoned skies above
have a knees-up, leave my trees up
when will I be love?
i am bleeding, i am shrinking,
i need to rest for a million years,
i am failing, i am sinking
in dust bowls, drained of ten trillion tears.
i've been spat on, shat on, wiped with bourgeois velvet glove.
i've been puked on, sat on, nuked on:
when will I be love?
i am bleeding, i am shrinking, etc.
let me feed you! say "I need you": when push comes to shove,
let my wounds heal! here's your next meal!
when will I be love?
i am bleeding, i am shrinking, etc.
i've been landscaped, many hands raped, owned, disowned from birth,
i've been slaughtered, sired and daughtered,
love me, mother earth!
i am bleeding, i am shrinking, etc.
i've been fished out, farmed, strong armed out, cooped up like the dove,
mined out, burnt out, starved out, dished out,
when will I be love?
i am bleeding, i am shrinking, etc.
dissipated, irradiated, ravaged close to dearth,
green bestowing, wise, unknowing,
love me Mother Earth
.i am bleeding, i am shrinking, etc.
can you guess my riddle
before I leave again
to wander down this green valley
to sound of the falling rain
along the green welsh valley
sound of the falling rain
Chorus
double rainbow, wet sunshine,
see that train puff down the line
steaming `neath the bridge o'er which I'm floating
all along the shining green welsh valley
i had the urge to travel
to see a land called spain
but when I found a dry rocky place
i pined for the falling rain
along the green welsh valley
Chorus
double rainbow, wet sunshine etc
my mother bore three children
i won't see two again
i left behind the wind and sun
i left with the falling rain
along the green welsh valley
left with the falling rain
Chorus
double rainbow, wet sunshine etc
my thoughts now flow so slowly
there isn't any pain
my memories dissolve inside
the sound of the falling rain
along the green welsh valley
sound of the falling rain
Chorus
double rainbow, wet sunshine etc.
i am a moody airship
chained to sky's empty brain
i am the phantom cloud who dies
to sound of the falling rain
along the green welsh valley
sound of the falling rain.
Chorus
double rainbow, wet sunshine etc.
early evening one last song bird
singing like a lonely dog
so tired of howling in the acid fog
now it's morning hear me howling
rolling in this strange black snow
man wants more power, how would this dog know
howl doggerel howl
prowl dogged prowl
gutter and street like the heat on the beat
howling and prowling and snuffling and growling
everybody needs a body everybody needs a dog
iron lady or a lamppost
or maybe it's a law man's knee
don't cock a leg you'll be barking up the wrong damn tree
as you see me in my fur coat
wagged at by your tongue and tail
world is a dog house, man's best friend's in jail
howl doggerel howl etc.
trotting by fluorescent sea
where can all the people be?
sniffing saltpetre air, growling
hunting for some trash to eat
longing for someone to meet
dream of bones in hungry misery
so i'm bound for
the final dog's home
rainbow kennel in the clouds
full central heating, radioactive shrouds
just remember
when you stroke it
your friendly nuclear family pet
that a green shaggy stray might prove your best friend yet
howl doggerel howl etc.

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