Is it a poem, maybe not, but when you live away and return the words are very simple but meaningful. The only reason it was written was that he wanted to write a love song with a bridge and it's symbolic connections and it was the only English bridge he found that he could sing.Something was lost when it was bypassed. Boothferry Bridge. (Harvey Andrews) Travelling, tired and I'm dusty Wind's blowing high and it's gusty Over Boothferry Bridge Boothferry Bridge My gateway to home again My gateway to home again I've been away such a long time In old towns that were not mine But Boothferry Bridge Boothferry Bridge It feels so fine to see you It feels so fine to see you I'll never cross you and leave again I'll never ever believe again That there's better things waiting somewhere That there's better things coming if I go there You rattle and shake to greet me Your rusty iron is beneath me Boothferry Bridge Boothferry Bridge It's so nice to say hello It's so nice to say hello.
Like a Night Club in the morning, you’re the bitter end Like a recently disinfected ****-house, you’re clean round the bend You give me the horrors Too bad to be true All of my tomorrow’s Are lousy coz of you You put the Shat in Shatter Put the Pain in Spain Your germs are splattered about Your face is just a stain You’re certainly no raver, commonly known as a drag Do us all a favour, here… wear this polythene bag You’re like a dose of scabies I’ve got you under my skin You make life a fairy tale… Grimm! People mention murder, the moment you arrive I’d consider killing you if I thought you were alive You’ve got this slippery quality It makes me think of phlegm And a dual personality I hate both of them Your bad breath, vamps disease, destruction, and decay Please, please, please, please, take yourself away Like a death a birthday party You ruin all the fun Like a sucked and spat our smartie you’re no use to anyone Like the shadow of the guillotine On a dead consumptive’s face Speaking as an outsider What do you think of the human race You went to a progressive psychiatrist He recommended suicide… Before scratching your bad name off his list And pointing the way outside You hear laughter breaking through, it makes you want to fart You’re heading for a breakdown Better pull yourself apart Your dirty name gets passed about when something goes amiss Your attitudes are platitudes Just make me wanna piss What kind of creature bore you Was is some kind of bat They can’t find a good word for you But I can… TWAT
fasten your seatbelts says a voice inside the plane you can't hear no noise engines made by rolls royce take your choice ...make mine majorca check out the parachutes can't be found alert those passengers they'll be drowned a friendly mug says "settle down" when i came round i was gagged and bound ...for Majorca and the eyes caress the neat hostess her unapproachable flip finesse i found the meaning of the word excess they've got little bags if you wanna make a mess i fancied Cuba but it cost me less ...to Majorca (Whose blonde sand fondly kisses the cool fathoms of the blue mediteranean) they packed us into the white hotel you could still smell the polycell wet white paint in the air-conditioned cells the waiter smelled of fake Chanel Gaulois... Garlic as well says if i like... i can call him "Miguel" ...well really i got drunk with another fella who'd just brought up a previous paella he wanted a fight but said they were yella' ...in Majorca the guitars rang and the castinets clicked the dancer's stamped and the dancer's kicked it's likely if you sang in the street you'd be nicked the double diamond flowed like sick mother's pride, tortilla and chips pneumatic drills when you try to kip ...in Majorca a stomach infection put me in the shade must have been something in the lemonade but by the balls of franco i paid had to pawn my bucket and spade next year I'll take the international brigade ...to Majorca
We wanted a dribbler, but not a petulant fool, A mixture of Best, Bowles & Zola, To keep it up, zig left and right and Turn the defender upside down, Maybe we have got that feller Who Newcastle did not want. Come on Brucey put him in the team. Lets beat the Parlarse tomorrow!
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by, And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking, And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking. I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied; And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying, And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying. I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life, To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife; And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover, And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
A homage to Tickles AUSTIN AMBASSADOR Y-REG My Austin Ambassador Y reg, Y reg, Yreg My Austin Ambassador Y reg is a car that I revere My Austin Ambassador Y reg, Y reg, Y reg Don’t keep asking me why, Reg It just happens to be that year Now you may covet a Clio Or a Mondeo Marvel at the Montego Fine but not me, no Now you may be utterly sold on Your Peugeot, your Proton Your Mitsubishi Shogun But I’ll always dote on My Austin Ambassador Y reg, Y reg, Y reg etc. I’d even say no ter A Rolls with a chauffeur A brand new Toyota A Skoda? Give over! I’ve got an Austin Ambassador Y reg, Y reg, Y reg Don’t keep asking me why, Reg It just happens to be that year
Always remember this from The World at War tv series. [video=youtube;LQ2gMcFx3No]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LQ2gMcFx3No[/video]
See also: Ullo-Ullo-Ullo-Ullo Ullo John! Gotta new motor? Ullo John! Gotta new motor? Your goat's made a mess on the carpet (x2) He lost his bottle in Barnsley (x2) He's an Avon Representative (x2) Ullo John! Gotta new motor? (x4) Hahahahahahahaha motor, motor, motor, motor motor, motor, motor, motor, urgggghhh Ullo John! Gotta new motor? Ullo John! Gotta new motor? They put me in a special hospital (x2) Is there life on Mars? (x2) Is there life in Peckham? (x2) What's that switch over there for? (x2) Ah ah ah ah ow... ah ah ah ah ow Ullo John! Gotta new motor? Ullo John! Gotta new motor? He can't half play the bongos (x2) He's got a record by Billy Joel (x2) Them locks are easy (x2) Here's my calling card: WALLOP! (x2) That's a piece of balsa (x2) You can make a model out of that (x2) He stuck his head in a dustbin (x2) And then ran through the launderette (x2) Ullo John! Gotta new motor? Ullo John! Gotta new motor? 'Ere John do you like the suit here, eh eh it's a lovely suit innit? 'Ere wanna brown ale? (x2) Ullo John! Gotta new motor? Ullo John! Gotta new motor? Mine's a light and bitter (x2) Ullo John! Gotta new mot-AH ... AH ... AH He works on the Thames Barrier (x2) I keep tropical fish (x2) In me underpants (x2) Ullo John! Gotta new motor? Ullo John! Gotta new motor? He walks around with a hat on (x2) (Spoken) Oh yeah our Rodney yeah, he's the intelligent one He's in the police force Very bright he is Been to Miami? Lovely... Miami Package tour in Miami You can't get a light and bitter You can't get a light and bitter in Miami though You can get one in Bermondsey though! That's a nice sound as well, Bermondsey You can get a light and bitter, and it sounds nice Light and bitter, that sounds nice, I'd like a light and bitter Oh cheers thanks a lot Oh nice one yeah, alright What you having? What you having eh? Pina Colada? Lovely, here you must be sophisticated Ullo-Ullo-Ullo-Ullo Ullo John! Gotta new motor? Ullo John! Gotta new motor? Your goat's made a mess of the carpet (x2) Ullo John! Gotta new motor? (x5) (Spoken) Here that's a nice three piece suite, yeah I like your music centre Here got any Demis Roussos? Oo I like him, Barry Manilow, I think he's terrific Oh I love him, I love Barry Manilow, I go all weak, when I hear Barry Manilow I go all weak
The Old year went, and the new returned, in the withering weeks of drought. The cheque was spent that the shearer earned, & the sheds were all cut out. The publicans words were short & few & the publicans face was black. And the time had come, the shearer knew, to carry his swag out back. For time means tucker, & tramp we must, where the scrubs are plain & wide. With seldom a track a man can trust, or a mountain peak to guide. All day long in the dust & heat ~ when Summer is on the track. With stinted stomachs & blistered feet, they carry their swags outback. He tramped away from the shanty town, when the days were long & hot, with never a soul to know or careif he died on the track or not, The poor of the city have friends in woe, no matter how much they lack. But only God & the swagman knows how a poor man fares outback. He begged his way on to the parched penroo & the warrego tracks once more & lived like a dog as the swagmen do, till the westetn station shore. But man were many, & sheds were full, for work in town was slack ~ the traveller never got hands in wool, for he tramped for a year outback. In stifling noons when his back was wrung by It's load & the air seemed dead ~ & the water warmed in the bag that hung to his aching arm like lead. For in times of flood, when plains were seas & the scrubs were cold & black. He ploughed in mud to his trembling knees & paid for his sins outback. And dirty & careless & old he wore, as his lamp of hope grew dim, he tramped for years, till the swag he bore seemed part of homself to him. As a bullock drags in the sandy ruts, he followed, the dreary track with never a thought but to reach the huts when the sun went down outback. He chanced one day when the north wind blew in his face like a burnaced - breath. He left the track for a tank he knew ~ twas a shorter cut to death. For the bed of the tank was hard & dry & crossed with many a crack & Oh ! It's a terrible thing to die of thirst in the scrub out back. A drover came, but the fringe of law was eastward many a miles. He never reported the thing he saw, for it was not worth his while, The tanks are full, & the grass is high in the mulga off the track. Where the bleaching bones of a white man lay by his mouldering swag outback. For time means Tucker, & tramp they must, where the plains & scrubs are wide with seldom a track that a man can trust, or a mountain or a mountain peak to guide. All day long in the flies & heat the man of the outside track with stinted stomach & blistered feet must carry their swags outback. Je
Puts me in mind of Baldrick's touching oratory, The German Guns: Boom, boom, boom, boom Boom, boom, boom Boom, boom, boom, boom Boom, boom, boom
This lass (I've just discovered her) is good: [video=youtube;dH797RUNJIY]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dH797RUNJIY[/video]
