Books And Water / Ian's Poem

(album: Ten More Turnips From The Tip - 2002)

On your nineteenth bump you got the rising hump
As the fruity squalls about to soil your smalls
So take a flying jump at the stirrup pump
Or the Priory walls will have your cobbler's alls
You'll never light the lamp when your match is damp
And it's the sea green snot that really hits the spot
You put the rubber stamp on your stomach cramp
And what has time forgot is better not or what?

Books and water
Bricks and mortar
Books and water
You can do what you like on a Saturday night
But you ain't coming home if you feel alright

You take a sherbet dab 'til the next rehab
Tie the nuptial knot of never will ain't got
And under every slab there's even more kebab
Whereby you lose the plot about the truth, so what?
And when they stop the clock upon the disused stock
The only common ground is at the lost and found
And with your arse in hock say thanks a lot old cock
For only fourteen pound I'm Alabamy bound

Books and water
Pigs and Slaughter
Books and water
Take a pipe on this and run like hell
If you ain't seen nothing like a ne'er do well

On your nineteenth bump you got the rising hump
You play the bing-bang stakes whatever else it takes
So do a flying jump at the stirrup pump
As Zaroathustra spake thus are the breaks
You'll never light the lamp when your match is damp
And it's the sea green snot that really hits the spot
You put the rubber stamp on your stomach cramp
And what has time forgot is better not, or what?

Books and water
Bricks and mortar
Books and water
You can do what you like on a Saturday night
But you ain't coming home if you feel alright

Books and water
Pigs and Slaughter
Books and water
Take a pipe on this and run like hell
If you ain't seen nothing like a ne'er do well... well well well well well

Books and water
Books and water

[Ian's Poem written and read by Jock Scott]

I put all my eggs in one basket
The basket that you gave to me
One was called 'Hope'
One was called 'Truth'
Another called 'Peace'
That makes three
Now a moth circles around a bare light bulb
Oddly reminding me of Francis Bacon
And then I wonder just where you are
And what connections you're making
Yes, such a swift departure,
You left me clutching at a half-pint of lager
I looked up and you were gone
Leaving the Blockheads and all your mates
On the stage to carry on
The next generation
Bring 'em on, bring 'em on, bring 'em on
So I'm left with the eggs and the bacon
And you could be oceans away
But if, when I yell
Outside the Gates of Hell
You appear with a smile and a swagger
Maybe we can sit down in the Devil's Arms
And order a fresh pint of lager