I was queuing up for the bus one day
I saw an old lady standing there
Well she must have been about 90
With a brown bonnet and grey hair

But then a photo fell out of her pocket:
It was her in 1939…
Well she looked a bit of a stunner then
A beauty from different time!

And I knew then she was the one for me
Sitting on that seat on her own
So I walked up the bus and sat next to her
And said, “let me take you home…”

And from that moment on
All her wrinkles were gone
We were dancing the ‘three step’ in the war
With the gramophone playing sweet songs
All the hits of forty four

Now she lives in a nursing home
With nurses and boredom and gout
She can’t even hear me talking
Without her hearing aid I’d need to shout

But then I look up at the mantelpiece
And see her there in black and white
Smiling, only seventeen;
And I can’t get her out of my sight!

And from that moment on
All her wrinkles were gone
We were dancing the ‘three step’ in the war
With the gramophone playing sweet songs
All the hits of forty four
All the hits of forty four
All the hits of forty four

night

The Hits of Forty Four

Ghost Dancers

At midday we’ll meet…
In the middle of Canon street…
For the greatest pub crawl in the world… 

Where else to begin but the Railway Inn
Before we try our luck at the Drunken Duck
We’ll wet our whistle at the Grain and Gristle
Then buy a big round at the Fox and Hound
We’ll be merry as a hog by the Old Mad Dog
On the slippery slope at the Anchor and Hope
We’ll be gibbering for joy when we reach the Black Boy
And spilling our beers in the Crook and Shears
Then another from the fridge of the Bishop on the Bridge
And you can’t forget of course the Coachman’s Horse
We’ll have a bloody good soak in the King’s Royal Oak
Then it’s up the hill to the old Dukes Mill

Come with us on the greatest pub crawl in the world 

We’ll sip quiet as a mouse in the Luzborough house
Before some drunken fun in the mad Mash Tun
And with heads in a muddle from the Duck and Puddle
We’ll go for a glug in the Little Brown Jug
They say it’s rather pleasant on Fridays at the Pheasant
Then we’ll have to try the ales at the Bag of Nails
If the cider’s good in the Badger’s Wood
We’ll all be in a spin when we hit the Bugle Inn
At the Hung, Drawn and Quartered everybody will be slaughtered
Our livers will be gorged at the Old King George
Then off we’ll glide to the Jekyll and Hyde
And there’ll be no reprieve at the Adam and Eve

Come with us on the greatest pub crawl in the world
This could be the greatest pub crawl in the world

Everybody will be ravaged when we get to the Cabbage
Dancing on the chairs at the Jugged Hare
We’ll be struggling to stand at the Bird in Hand
And drunk as a skunk when we hit the Merry Monk
Then away we’ll cruise to the Three Horse Shoes
And another drink to down at the Rose and Crown
But the night’s not begun till we’ve visited the Sun
And necked a pint of grog in the Spotted Dog
Next on the plan will be the Green Man
But I’ve heard the beer’s best at the Travellers Rest
Then we’ll hit the Zion they call the Red Lion
Before we stagger one by one into the Swan

Come with us on the Greatest Pub Crawl in the world
This could be the greatest pub crawl in the world

Next we’ll leisurely potter on up to the Otter
Then polish off three in the Cherry Tree
We’ll make an awful din in the Wheatsheaf Inn
And give the barman a fright in the Jolly Knight
And if everything’s well, we’ll converge on the Bell
Then sample the charms of the Wykham Arms
By the Bishop’s Blaize we’ll all be in a daze
But we’ll have another jar in the Evening Star
Perhaps a game of Tarot sitting in the Frog and Parrot
And we’ll start to fall by the Hole in the Wall
We’ll finish at the Willow before we hit the pillow
But before we go to bed, we’ll try the Queen’s Head…

And if we’re all not dead by then,
We’ll wake up tomorrow and do it all again!

The Greatest Pub Crawl in the World

Autumn Rain

Autumn rain fell with the leaves
When at last you cast away
The ghosts of yesterday
Your heart has fallen with the leaves
And memories are blown around
This old and withered golden ground

Days like today your troubles seem so far away
Days like today when autumn rain washes away your mind
The night will sing and bells will chime
You know it’s been a long, long time

Night is falling everywhere
See them melting upon the air
There you are again
A thousand riddles in the rain
A million faces smiling in the snow
Come on, it’s time to go

Days like today your troubles seem so far away
Days like today when autumn rain washes away your mind
The night will sing and bells will chime
I know it’s been a long, long time
The night will sing and bells will chime
I know it’s been a long, long time
The night will sing and bells will ring
Because it’s been such a long, long time

Autumn Rain

What a day for driving
Down little winding country roads;
You and me driving
Down never ending country roads,
Wherever the wind decides to blow

Hidden from the world
Lost in the long green summer grass
Without a future or a past

And the hours are falling away
Lost in your conversation I could stay

Grasshoppers chirping,
Clouds hang lazy in the sky;
Like cotton whales they slumber by…

We drift through a graveyard,
The silence of lives lived long ago;
As we drink the sun, they sleep below…

And the hours are falling away
Lost in your conversation I could stay

The warm leafy sunlight
Dances in shadow on your face;
Slipped out of time and out of place…

The evening is falling,
The big red balloon is coming down;
Birds fall silent all around…

I would lie here forever and a day
And never see a soul pass this way

And then we’re driving
Under the black cloak of the night
Under the stars that glimmer bright

And today shall forever be
A memory.

2017

Never-ending Country Roads

I’ll tell you a story about a man
Who wears dungarees and pushes a pram
Filled with all manner of peculiar things;
Cabbages, teddy bears; balls of string

Old Burping Ron lives in Winchester town;
A bearded pariah; a bohemian clown
Watch all people sniffle away…
They don’t want to hear what he has to say

Old Burping Ron, if you see him in the high street
Be careful if your eyes meet
Because you could be risking a personal disgrace;
He’ll burp in your face

Ol’ Burping Ron, see him down in the park
Feeding the ducks as the evening grows dark
Dressed as a fireman, he rants to the air
The strangest of things, but nobodies there

It’s many a morning I’ve seen him go by
With his tattered old pram and a glint in his eye
He likes to give presents to girls in the street
That he rakes out of bins in the hot August heat

Ol’ Burping Ron, if you see him on the high street
Be careful if your eyes meet
Cos he’ll grab you in a passionate embrace
Then burp in your face

Old Burping Ron

Good Old Fashioned English Holiday

Summer of High Hopes (Working Title)

I found myself in a forgotten graveyard
In the ripe summer rain
On a worm-eaten bench
Where today no plaque remains

Above the dead, cherry trees were shedding
White tears on their graves
Nobody passed me
There, where only the lonely ruminate

The smells of summer filled the air
The smells of summer filled the air

And all the problems of this world
What can they matter now
Under old cherry boughs
What can they matter in this place

Victorian graves
Long forgotten names
And broken slabs still standing
Weathered and worn down by the rain

From stone to stone hopped an infant blackbird
With a worm in its beak
Upon the fractured remains
Of the stone of Eliza Payne 
Who passed away
In 1812 one April day

Amid the weeds stands a cherub statue
Where two year old Thomas is lain
But no flowers remain
Only the nettles recall him today
And the games he never played

After one hundred and fifteen years
After one hundred and fifteen years

Between these walls all dreams are over
As if they had never been
And the summer;s over
The longer nights are setting in

Near the path lies a marble angel
With a broken wing
In the early hours
If the wind is high you might hear her sing

Victorian graves
All lives end the same
No man can defy
The bitter chill of winters rain

Victorian Graves

Fly, midnight butterfly
Don’t you look behind
Let the stars be your guide

Go where you have to go
By the moon’s soft glow
You’ll come back again I know

Though if we don’t meet again
Think of me every now and then 

Go, where the days move fast
Where shadows cannot pass
And don’t be afraid

For though what was ours I know
Somehow lost its glow
It may glow again some day

Don’t hold your wings over me in the night
Slip like the wind out of sight

Though it’s hard to watch you go
It could never be the same I know

So go where you have to go
Carry no sorrow
For what might have been

Then fly, midnight butterfly
Don’t you look behind
For what you might there find

Midnight Butterfly

This is a little makeshift collection of doggerel ditties (is that a coinage?) These songs are all works in progress and to be frank I'm not too happy with any of them (though most songwriters like to say that of course.) The software I used is quite primitive by today's standards and as you can hear the drums are pre-loaded with a few not-so-fancy fills but hopefully you'll get the gist of the song. I have many many more half recorded that I'm working on when I get time. But anyway, hope these provide a modicum of mundane entertainment!

C D

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