LOVE BANANA

to be sung in a calypso style to the tune of Galway Bay

Be sure to write your love songs on bananas
cos kiwis dont go easy on your pen
and if you make a mistake with your feelings
you can peel the thing and start over again.

Faux Folk Song

St. Patrick sailed from Tithebarn Street
or so the story goes
and sailed across the Irish Sea
a thousand years ago
and all the snakes in Ireland
did quiver in their skins
as they’d heard St Paddy
had come to do them in.

St. Patrick sailed from Tithebarn Street
in dark old Liverpool
where woodlands fell as sailors tell
for ships the seas to rule
and on board such a sturdy bough
he sighted Eire’s green
and all the serpents quaked and shook
he’d come to do them in.

The Children of the Flowers (a song for David Crosby)

the children of the flowers
have left the golden canyon sides
and though the sun keeps shining
no more will she awake their eyes
to azure mornings’ gilded haze
of love, we are bereft
for the children of the flowers are gone,
yet echoes of their songs are left

A Minstrel Born

a minstrel born of poet’s heart
for heart a minstrel needs
as in my songs and ballads pure
my soul marks all its deeds,

so gentle is the writer’s heart
yet cruel and cold at times
the poet lives but for his verse
and breathes but in his rhymes

and though I may write a million words
as write them all I must
it matters not for like my heart
they one day will be dust,

Water Colour

my vellum moistened by the rain
and thus my painted willows run
serendipitous the stain
that in the downpour is begun
for now my landscaped silhouettes
from inclemency be-steeped
are filled now with dark day’s regret
as from the raindrops willows weep.

Shunga Song

within your gates of jade
our sweetest music played
each bar timed with sighs
to the melody applied

rhythmic pulses ring
inside my head they sing
a song lost to desires
within the gates of fire.

Head Song

what’s in my head today
singing out loud
what thoughts
may stroll my way
as the sun rolls by
sitting in a deckchair
dreaming, yeah yeah
just dreaming
no thoughts screaming
’cause, remember
I’m setting them free
as soon as they’re born
by singing out loud
what’s in my head today

Singin’ Dylan

he sat upon the museum steps
singing Desolation Row
and all the people passing by
never seemed to know
that he threw them headlong in his words
to make of them a muse
though I believe they didn’t hear
or simply had refused
to see themselves as actors
within his play you know
so on the steps he strummed and sung
of Desolation Row.

Partial Song

I’ve sung these notes before
a thousand different ways
but the music hasn’t moved me
as it did today
It is not quite a different song
nor is the rhythm new
perhaps the melody was wrong
until I sang for you.

Tomorrow

sing a song like Yoko Ono
and dance like Stephen Fry
tell a joke like the next James Bond
for tomorrow you may die, may die
for tomorrow you may die.

drink like The Pope at Easter
eat up your humble pie
then sleep it off on pay TV
for tomorrow you may die, may die
yes tomorrow you may die.

write down your prayers for gods to read
by lamplight in the sky
but implore them not for answers
as tomorrow you may die, may die
yes tomorrow you will die.