Come on Everybody

by Adrian Mitchell

  The truth’s my favourite uncle

  Always brings me a surprise

  The truth’s my favourite uncle

  What ridiculous stories it tells

  I like the truth I like the way it doesn’t simper

  I like the truth it employs no PR men

  I like the truth I’m very fond of its music

  I like the truth I like the way it tastes

  I like the truth it never gazes into mirrors

  I like the truth I like its way of walking

  I like the truth I’m very fond of its music

  I like the truth I enjoy the way it tastes

  I really love the truth

  If it licks me I know it wants to lick me

  If it leaves me I know it must be on its way

  For the truth is the truth

  Is a strange kind of animal

  The truth is the truth

  Only comes out when people sleep

  So I stay awake listening for the truth

  It doesn’t make hit records

  It’s not often on the TV

  You’ll see the truth more often

  In the sadness of faces on trains

  I like its grin I like its way of falling silent

  I like the way that it snoozes on committees

  At soccer games it watches how the grass grows

  It rents a shop and puts the worst in the window

  I saw the truth in a junkyard one evening

  I saw the truth it was sitting by a bonfire

  I asked the truth, I said: What’s your kind of music?

  Tell you the truth, said truth, I like shining music

  Yes I love the truth

  For the truth is the truth

  Is a strange kind of animal

  The truth is the truth

  Only comes out when people sleep

  So I stay awake listening for the truth

  Yes I stay awake listening for the truth

  Wash Your Hands

  (FROM Mind Your Head)

  HUSBAND: My well-swept house is almost in the country

  You can see woodlands from the upstairs window

  On Saturday and Sunday there’s a deck-chair on the patio

  And there I drink a can or two of lager.

  WIFE: Oh wash your hands, my darling,

  Wash your hands, my darling,

  Wash your clever hands.

  HUSBAND: With my arm across my eyelids, I sleep very soundly.

  My wife likes Chopin but I favour Mantovani.

  My little girl of five goes to ballet class on Wednesday.

  My little boy of seven collects toy vehicles.

  WIFE: Oh wash your hands, my darling,

  Wash your hands, my darling,

  Wash your gentle hands.

  HUSBAND: Every other weekend I take to my mother

  A cake from the kitchen or flowers from the garden.

  I always have a word and a wave for the neighbours

  As I go to do the work which I never mention.

  WIFE: Oh wash your hands, my darling,

  Wash your hands, my darling,

  Wash your loving hands.

  HUSBAND: Sometimes I sit and stare at nothing

  Sometimes I sit and smile at nothing

  Sometimes I sit and think of nothing

  My job is torturing men and women

  My job is torturing men and women

  My job is –

  WIFE: Oh wash your hands, my darling,

  Wash your hands, my darling,

  Wash your shaking hands.

  Lament for the Jazz Makers

  (FROM We)

  As I was sitting all alone

  Death called me on the telephone

  I said – I’m sorry, I’m not free.

  The fear of death is haunting me.

  Death is the cop who can’t be bought.

  You always think you won’t be caught,

  Until you’re busted, finally –

  The fear of death is eating me.

  Death grabs the young cat by the neck –

  He stomped upon Bix Beiderbecke

  Whose cornet rung so silvery.

  The fear of death is shaking me.

  And death has locked up Lester Young

  And Billie Holiday who sung

  Her beaten-up black poetry.

  The fear of death is clutching me.

  Tatum, Django, Charlie Mingus,

  Death snapped off their cunning fingers

  Like twigs from some old apple tree.

  The fear of death is breaking me.

  Death took the great Duke Ellington

  And wore him down to skin and bone

  For all his generosity.

  The fear of death is taunting me.

  Louis, Mama Yancey, Dinah,

  Bessie Smith and Big Joe Turner

  All work in death’s bad factory.

  The fear of death is chilling me.

  He breathed in air, he breathed out light,

  Charlie Parker was my delight

  But Bird was cut down cruelly.

  The fear of death is touching me.

  And we must all of us go dwell

  In Death’s enormous Black Hotel.

  At least we’ll have good company –

  The fear of death is killing me.

  Gather Together

  (FROM We)

  Gather together

  The snow-drinking waterfalls

  Gather together

  The tears of the pine

  The glassy-winged insects

  The woodpecker’s drum

  Gather together

  The soft-springing forest floor

  Gather together

  The lumbering bear

  Inflammable maples

  The spears of the sun

  Gather together

  The cry of the falling tree

  Gather together

  The apple-green pond

  The leap of the squirrel

  The patience of stones

  Gather together

  The snaggle-toothed undergrowth

  Gather together

  The spite of the storm

  The acrobat swallows

  The glaring of bones

  Gather together

  The green-fountain conifers

  Gather together

  The choir of the wolves

  The strong breath of mushrooms

  The butterwort flowers

  Gather together

  The shouting of cataracts

  Gather together

  The racket of rooks

  The songs of the forest

  The forest is ours

  The Pregnant Woman’s Song

  (FROM The Blue)

  I am an ocean

  And in my deeps

  There is a baby curled

  I am an ocean

  And in my deeps

  I keep a little world

  My heart is strong

  Strong as the burning sun at noon

  My baby’s heart is clear

  Simple and light as the floating moon

  Yes I am an ocean

  And in my deeps

  There is a baby curled

  I am an ocean

  And in my deeps

  I keep a little world

  Jake’s Amazing Suit

  (FROM Silent Chorus)

  When you see me in my suit –

  You’ll look and at first

  All you’ll see is a burst

  Of shimmering electric blue.

  Then you’ll focus in and see

  That the vision is me

  And I’m walking

  And my suit is walking too

  When you see me in my suit –

  Flowing soft as milk

  It’ll be Thailand silk

  That follows any move at all.

  And its cut and its drape

  Will lay on me a shape

  Like I’m st
anding

  Underneath a waterfall.

  When you see me in my suit –

  I won’t be able to walk out in public

  Because of my wonderful threads

  Never mind, instead

  We’ll spend our life in bed

  With nothing but love in our heads

  When you see me in my suit!

  I once saw Miles Davis

  Walk across the tarmac from an aeroplane.

  Yes I once saw Miles Davis walking

  Oh now let me explain –

  His face was carved from a living mahogany tree-trunk.

  He wore power sunglasses over his eyes

  With silver pistons connected to his ears.

  His beret sat on the top of his head

  Like a little powder-blue cloud

  And when he smiled it turned you to stone.

  His suit was four-and-a-half times too big for his body.

  It was kind of a tweed woven out of mountain light.

  It had criss-cross lines of the sort of luminous

  Green you only see on the top of birthday cakes.

  And the luminous green lines

  Criss-crossed over a meadow of bright creamy white

  I once saw Miles Davis

  Walk across the tarmac from an aeroplane

  Yes I once saw Miles Davis walking

  I can explain –

  I want a suit like that

  I want a suit like that

  I want a suit so electric

  If I leave it alone

  It’ll jump off the hanger

  Take a walk on its own

  Give me a suit like that

  Give me a suit like that

  So that my love will love me

  Even more than she loves me

  When she sees me in my suit

  When she sees me in my suit.

  Secret Country

  (FROM Pied Piper)

  There is no money

  So there is no crime

  There are no watches

  Cos there’s no time

  It’s a good country

  It’s a secret country

  And it’s your country and mine.

  If something’s needed

  You make it there

  And we have plenty

  For we all share

  It’s a kind country

  It’s a secret country

  And it’s your country and mine.

  There are no cages

  There is no zoo

  But the free creatures

  Come and walk with you

  It’s a strange country

  It’s a secret country

  And it’s your country and mine.

  There are no prisons

  There are no poor

  There are no weapons

  There is no war

  It’s a safe country

  It’s a secret country

  And it’s your country and mine.

  And in that country

  Grows a great tree

  And it’s called freedom

  And its fruit is free

  In that blue country

  In that loving country

  In that wild country

  In that secret country

  Which is your country and mine.

  Cardboard Rowing Boat

  (FROM The Siege)

  All I know

  Is that when I go

  I will stand beside an unknown sea

  And that’s why I ask my best friends

  When I die won’t you make for me –

  A cardboard rowing boat

  For my coffin

  Painted in greens and blues

  And dress me up in my

  Faded denim

  And my favourite running shoes

  In my green and blue

  Cardboard rowing boat

  The poems of Blake in my

  Left hand pocket

  Navy rum in my right

  And in my hand put an eating apple

  And bury me late at night

  In my green and blue

  Cardboard rowing boat

  And I’ll row away

  Cross that starry sea

  Singing and drifting with the tide

  And I’ll row away

  And maybe I’ll meet you at the other side

  In my green and blue

  Cardboard rowing boat

  OUR BLUE PLANET

  The Castaways or Vote For Caliban

  The Pacific Ocean –

  A blue demi-globe.

  Islands like punctuation marks.

  A cruising airliner,

  Passengers unwrapping pats of butter.

  A hurricane arises,

  Tosses the plane into the sea.

  Five of them, flung on to an island beach,

  Survived.

  Tom the reporter.

  Susan the botanist.

  Jim the high-jump champion.

  Bill the carpenter.

  Mary the eccentric widow.

  Tom the reporter sniffed out a stream of drinkable water.

  Susan the botanist identified a banana tree.

  Jim the high-jump champion jumped up and down and gave them each a bunch.

  Bill the carpenter knocked up a table for their banana supper.

  Mary the eccentric widow buried the banana skins,

  But only after they had asked her twice.

  They all gathered sticks and lit a fire.

  There was an incredible sunset.

  Next morning they held a committee meeting.

  Tom, Susan, Jim and Bill

  Voted to make the best of things.

  Mary, the eccentric widow, abstained.

  Tom the reporter killed several dozen wild pigs.

  He tanned their skins into parchment

  And printed the Island News with the ink of squids.

  Susan the botanist developed new strains of banana

  Which tasted of chocolate, beefsteak, peanut butter,

  Chicken and bootpolish.

  Jim the high-jump champion organised organised games

  Which he always won easily.

  Bill the carpenter constructed a wooden water wheel

  And converted the water’s energy into electricity.

  Using iron ore from the hills, he constructed lampposts.

  They all worried about Mary, the eccentric widow,

  Her lack of confidence and her –

  But there wasn’t time to coddle her.

  The volcano erupted, but they dug a trench

  And diverted the lava into the sea

  Where it formed a spectacular pier.

  They were attacked by pirates but defeated them

  With bamboo bazookas firing

  Sea-urchins packed with home-made nitro-glycerine.

  They gave the cannibals a dose of their own medicine

  And survived an earthquake thanks to their skill in jumping.

  Tom had been a court reporter

  So he became the magistrate and solved disputes.

  Susan the Botanist established

  A university which also served as a museum.

  Jim the high-jump champion

  Was put in charge of law-enforcement –

  Jumped on them when they were bad.

  Bill the carpenter built himself a church,

  Preached there every Sunday.

  But Mary the eccentric widow…

  Each evening she wandered down the island’s main street,

  Past the Stock Exchange, the Houses of Parliament,

  The prison and the arsenal.

  Past the Prospero Souvenir Shop,

  Past the Robert Louis Stevenson Movie Studios,

  Past the Daniel Defoe Motel

  She nervously wandered and sat on the end of the pier of lava,

  Breathing heavily,

  As if at a loss,

  As if at a lover,

  She opened her eyes wid
e

  To the usual incredible sunset.

  Quit Stalling, Call in Stalin

  I’ve got a system

  A system a system

  I’ve got a system

  And everyone’s going to fit in

  The white folk the black folk

  The brown folk the yellow folk

  The men folk the women folk

  Yes everyone’s going to fit in

  And if you don’t fit my system

  My system my system

  If you don’t fit my system

  There’s something the matter with you

  You’ll be locked up in a hospital

  Hospital hospital

  Locked up in a hospital

  With thousands of others like you

  Locked up with the misfits

  Misfits misfits

  Locked up with the misfits

  You’re going to be there till you die

  But I’ll be out in the system

  The system the system

  Working within the system

  Having the time of my life

  Two Good Things

  there’s one good thing about a cow-pat:

  if you leave it in the sun it dries.

  and there’s one good thing about capitalism –

  it dies.

  Remember Suez?

  England, unlike junior nations,

  Wears officers’ long combinations.

  So no embarrassment was felt

  By the Church, the Government or the Crown.

  But I saw the Thames like a grubby old belt

  And England’s trousers falling down.

  Written During the Night Waiting for the Dawn

  Let’s unplug the radiotelescope.

  Pablo Neruda, that abundant planet,

  Has been eradicated from the Southern starscape.