WALK-OUT SHOES

Some days are doomed from the start
When the birds don’t tweet for your loving sweetheart
Her cornflakes won’t crackle and pop
When she wakes up as blue as a weeping teardrop
She says, “No really, we’re fine
Just need some quality time”
I can read her like a book
She’s wearing that Walk-Out Look.

So I’m thinking, “What can I do
To lighten her day, to brighten her mood?
To prevent her from going astray
To the land of love where love doesn’t stay?”
She says, “No really we’re fine
Just need some quality time
I’ll be back in a while”
But she’s wearing that Walk-Out Smile.

Some days go by
You don’t even notice
The look on her face
You don’t ever see
You spend your time
With your eyes on the good things
But the best thing in life
Is going unseen.

“Goodbye” is an emotive word
It causes such sorrow whenever it’s heard
How will she do it then, how will she abandon my heart
When she wakes up as blue as a weeping teardrop?
She’ll say, “No really we’re fine
Just need some quality time”
I’m thinking, “What’s the use?
She’s wearing those Walk-Out Shoes
Those Walk-Out Shoes”

© The Fishpie Sky 2017

GOING OUT TO THE BELGIAN COAST

It’s a fine fine time for thinking

It’s a fine place to compose

There are few upon this ferry

Going out to the Belgian coast

This trade is slow December time

My family sit alone

And each of them is sleeping

As the iron girders grown

I haven’t seen her since she married

To an Eindhoven boy

And I can’t help remembering

With tears and joy

But it gets me wondering

Will it run

Like father, like son?

My father must be dreaming back

To his sisters and his home

And he left that southern city

Made an English girl his own

He was settled down at 31

Just now it seems to me

There is much the same between us

As this boat rocks through the sea

Once I knew a spirit daughter

She wore rare gowns of gem 

I haven’t seen that spirit

Any year since then

So it gets me wondering

Will love run 

Like father, like son?

The gulls are still behind us

They’re up drifting in the wind

Waiting for a stranger

To throw them something in

And should we talk of past and future

And I’m anxious what to say

With chances to be taken

We each make our own way

Once I knew a spirit daughter

She wore rare gowns of gem 

I haven’t seen that spirit

Any year since then

So it gets me wondering,

Will love run 

Like father, like son?

Like father, like son.

© The Fishpie Sky 2017

RED SHIRTS WHITE SLEEVES

It’s a Saturday
He walks up the Holloway Road
Got a ticket in his hand
The latest Arsecast on his phone
In the pit of his stomach
In the heart of this man
The eternal hope
Of a football fan.

Taken to his very first game
By his dad and his Uncle Bert
Standing by the hot dog van
Mustard was smothered all over his shirt
He loved the pictures in the programme
And the kit George Eastham wore
That’s how it all began
For this Arsenal man.

Red Shirts, White Sleeves
They’re my colours
That’s my team
We will follow our dreams wearing
Red Shirts, White Sleeves

Now one thing’s for sure
Nothing comes guaranteed
He knows that chasing the dream
Can put a man down to his knees
But he chases anyway
Though they’ve won many things before
Gonna keep on chasing
Until they win some more.

You gotta understand
You’ve gotta do all you can
You’ve got give a damn
Are you listening Stan?
You gotta understand
You’ve gotta do all you can
You’ve got give a damn
To be an Arsenal man

Red Shirts, White Sleeves
They’re my colours
That’s my team
We will follow our dreams wearing
Red Shirts, White Sleeves

It’s a Saturday
He walks up the tunnel once more
Its for the very last time
As other heroes have done before
With his head held high
The crowd will all rise
To appreciate
This Arsenal Great.

Red Shirts, White Sleeves
They’re my colours
That’s my team
We will follow our dreams wearing
Red Shirts, White Sleeves.

© The Fishpie Sky 2017

THE SONG’S THE THING

I can hardly play
I can barely sing
But for me you see
The song’s the thing
It’s the only way to justify
Why I even try
Can’t help myself
Most of the time
A deluded man with a dubious rhyme
But where’s the crime?

When there’s an aching heart
Or a hollow ring
Just put a record on my darling
Because the song’s the thing
The Song’s the Thing.

It can shine a light on a foggy day
For a while take you away
It can tweak a cut
It can pull a tooth
It can weave a spell
Or spill the truth.

When there’s an aching heart
Or a hollow ring
Just put a record on my darling
Because the song’s the thing
The Song’s the Thing
The Song’s the Thing

John Paul George
And Ray Davies
Andy Partridge of XTC
Randy Newman and Paul Simon
Ron Sexsmith and me, hey yeah
There’s Joni and Hoagy
From way back when
Fill in your favourite names my friends
So many more from all of time
And these are mine.

‘Cos with none of these guys
There’s be nothing to sing
And that is why my darling
The song’s the thing
The Song’s the Thing
The Song’s the Thing

So I took myself down to Abbey Road
And I sat with others in the cold
And each of us where lost in thought
As we listened to the fallen chords
Thankful that the best of John
Was left to us in his songs
Then he was gone.

When there’s an aching heart
Or a hollow ring
Just put a record on my darling
Because the song’s the thing
The Song’s the Thing
The Song’s the Thing

C to G
C to G
Just playing
C to G Major
Copyright? Well its me.
Hey how about that!
Little old me.

© The Fishpie Sky 2017