Side One:
1:Talking To My Fossils
2:Jurassic Tea Gardens
3:Vole Love
4:Kevin`s Got A Turbo
5:Museli
6:The Worst Fish And Chip Shop In The Land
7:Just Another Singer/Songwriter

Side Two:
1:Albert Einstein`s Dead
2:Polonius` Farewell
3:Please Don`t Stroke The Effigies
4:Bones In The Chimney
5:Sheep In A Wolfs Clothing
6:Just The Denomination Blues
7:Salisbury

Talking To My Fossils

Sometimes when the going's rough you find it hard to smile
It's good to talk to someone who has been around awhile
Someone who will always stay the same from day to day
Someone who may know a lot but hasn't much to say
Someone who can guarantee their lips are firmly sealed
Someone to whom the things you hide can safely be revealed

So here I am.......
Talking to my fossils

Fossils are economical, and so easy to keep
They're all perfectly house-trained, and fossil food is cheap!
They serve practical purposes; its good to contemplate
A best friend who's a doorstop or a useful paperweight
As conversation starters, they are the very best
When you tell your neighbours-
"this one is a Dibunophyllum bipartium from the Namurian series of Weardale"
-they always look impressed

So here I am........

One day we'll go to join them, my dear
Have to give up some pleasures, it's true
But we won't find the loss'l be all that colossal
When we're fossilised, me and you
In an aeon or three we'll be geology
Just another chip off the old block
You won't be alone when terminally stoned
'Cause it's your role to be a rock
It's your role to be a rock
It's your role to be a rock
It's your role to be a rock
Don't let it come as such of a shock,
when you find it's your role to be a rock....

My fossils are so friendly, not an angry word was said
On the day that I chiselled them out of their fossil beds
They don't talk party politics, they never shout and storm
They don't bite the neighbour's children, or dig holes in the lawn
They're a challenge to our lifestyle, they really make me think
Will you and I be useful, when ten million years extinct?
So here I am... talking to my fossils



Jurassic Tea Gardens

I was walking down the road one rainy night
When something quite unpleasant strode into my sight
It was twenty feet high, with slavering jaws
Beady little eyes and great big claws
I knew it was a dinosaur, I'd seen them on a film
They are strong and voracious and it takes a lot to kill'em
Not being equipped for dinosaur elimination
I thought I'd better try and strike up a conversation

I looked up at its huge head on a short muscular neck
And said "are you a Tyrannosaurus ...... Rex?"
He said "actually, my name is Rover, but I don't really mind
I'm just the sort of dinosaur anyone might find
It's just an illusion to say we are extinct
We've been here all along, and we're now on the brink
Of making such a comeback, as your personal pets
Claws teeth and all, you ain't seen nothing yet....

And there are dinosaurs waiting round the corner
And there are dinosaurs practising their parts
And there are dinosaurs, the dinosaurs are hungry
And there are dinosaurs-
in the shadows in our hearts

Now cousin Mary's pet canary warbled cheerfully,
But in her attic pterodactyls waited for their tea
David had a goldfish that swum round inside a bowl
But something that should have been a fossil pulled the strings inside his soul
Mrs Jones' peke it bit the man who came to mend the phone
But every day her dinosaur will grind her husband's bones
The Reverend Simpkins is mild-mannered, gentle and restrained
But there's a monstrous Mesozoic something living in his drains

And there are dinosaurs waiting round the corner
And there are dinosaurs practising their parts
And there are dinosaurs, the dinosaurs are hungry
And there are dinosaurs-
in the shadows in our hearts

There are many types of dinosaurs in each suburban street
Most of us have got one, though we try to be discreet
Living in our closets we've all sorts of sorts of saurus
We keep them even though they're prone to bite and rend and claw us
If you just probe a little, scratch the surface - more or less
There are cupboards full of skeletons clad in reptilian flesh
Don't ask me how to handle them, how the problem can be solved
It wasn't me created them - they simply just evolved!

And there are dinosaurs who don't wear Jurassic Park tee-shirts
And there are dinosaurs you never get to see
And there are dinosaurs who always draw their curtains
And there are dinosaurs-
who look just like you and me
just like you and me
- well, just like you



Vole Love

There's this little furry animal, they simply call the vole
'though its name is an anagram of love
And just today it's known, voles have this strange hormone
It's discovery is a blessing from above
When a boy vole meets a girl vole, they will never ever part
They never ever make each other cry
And scientists have proved that if we take this substance too,
Just like voles we'll never say goodbye

Vole love, vole love, vole love, vole love
It's vole love that I want for you and me
Vole love, vole love, vole love, vole love
Vole love lasts through all eternity

So I thought of you and me dear, and set out on my quest
All day I searched the hedge on bended knee
At last I found a vole, as it ran out of its hole
It came to me quite vole-untarily
For a while I kept it in a cage, and fed it volish food
And wondered whether I should set it free
But I knew inside that vole, that in addition to its soul
There was something I desired for you and me

I stood it on the table, made a voledictory speech
I ran my hand along its furry back
It gazed back up at me with a look that spoke vole-umes
I shut my eyes - and hit it with an axe
I gathered up bits of vole from the table and the floor
And scraped more off the ceiling and the wall
I boiled it and I fried it, I ground and sieved and dried it
And put it in a small box in the hall

Then I took my share of powdered vole, and sprinkled it with care
On the baked beans I was having for my tea
One mouthful - and I panic, my passion grew vole-canic
I thought of you all vole-uptuosly
So I'm sending you your portion, as you eat it think of me
Never forget, ma cherie, I'm the one
Just wrap it in pastry, then I'm sure you will agree
I'm the man who put vole in your vole-au-vent



Kevin`s Got A Turbo

He started off driving a Metro
Soon wanted something so much better O
Tried an Nova, then an Astra
That was a complete disastra
Still had a problem he couldn't solve O
would he invest in a Volvo?
But to travel fast and to travel far
He needed five little letters on the back of his car

Kevin's got a turbo
Kevin's got a turbo
K K K K K K K K Kevin's got a turbo now...

He says it gets him from A to B
And all the neighbours get to see
He's a supercharged personality
Kevin's got a turbo now
Got more force in his horeseless carriage
Man and machine now joined in marriage
Shangri La in his own garage
Kevin's got a turbo now

Kevin's got a turbo

Now he knows the way it feels
To burn the rubber off his wheels
Passing by, the girls all squeal
Kevin's got a turbo now
Quadraphonic speakers on his stereo
An in-car fridge keeps his drinks cold
And fluffy dice plated with real gold
Kevin's got a turbo now

Kevin's got a turbo...

Read the advertisers' blurb -O
Feel the instinct's you can't kerb- Oh
Be a hero in your own suburb - Oh
just like Kevin with his turbo
But sometimes he must feel perturbed - o
His conscience it must be disturbed - o
But never mind, he feels superb-o
When he's driving in his turbo

Got walnut veneer on the dash
An in-flight computer with lights that flash
A hands-off phone for the motorway
And a deep-pile carpet lining in the ashtray
Got central locking and a tinted screen
A catalytic convertor to keep it green
Got electric windows- when they roll you can call
"Excuse me, my man, is this the way to the Hall?"

Kevin's got a turbo...



Museli

Muesli's the Euro-Breakfast, Muesli is PC
Its the healthiest friendliest cereal environmentally
Eat 100 grams each morning, so the men in Brussels say
And you'll be half-way up a mountain, yodelling with a Swiss milkmaid

Muesli, Muesli, Muesli, Muesl - i i i i i i
Muesli, Muesli, Muesl - i i i i

Now the traditional cereals, at last they have been stopped
Like Crunchy Syrup Ricicles and Atomic Blastopops
With surprises in their packets, so before you'd even know it
There'd be a plastic Dan Dare spaceship wedged half way down your throat

Muesli, Muesli, Muesli, Muesl - i i i i i i
Muesli, Muesli, Muesli - i i i i

Muesli is so exciting, if you analyse some its
Made up of rolled oats and a wide variety of bits
Swept up off the floor after a fourteen trolley pile-
up in the cereal section of a supermarket aisle

Muesli, Muesli, Muesli, Muesl - i i i i i i
Muesli, Muesli, Muesli - i i i i

So eat up all your muesli, it is so good for you
(unless you break your teeth on the occasional hard ecu)
Not only is it nutritous not only is it nice
But it shows such solidarity - with rabbits hamsters gerbils rats and mice

Muesli, Muesli, Muesli, Muesl - i i i i i i
Muesli, Muesli, Muesli - i i i i

Now we're all Euroconscious, it's all so EEC
As Eurocrats spawn Eurobrats in a Eurofamily
And we all eat up our Muesli, even the plates get licked
We're learning Eurodiscipline, and it's all because Maastricht

Muesli, Muesli, Muesli, Muesl - i i i i i i
Muesli, Muesli, Muesli - i i i i



The Worst Fish And Chip Shop In The Land

Once there was a haddock that frolicked in the sea
It was lean and sleek and silver, as haddocks ought to be
It filled its days with all those things that fill a haddock's day
But that all sadly ended when a trawler came that way
Entrapped within a net, it ended earthly life
But there was worse to come, worse than the fisherman's knife
Packed into a cratew and transported on demand
To the worst fish-and-chip shop in the land

A family of potatoes slept beneath the ground
They grew up as potatoes should, so big and white and round
There they lay and slumbered beneath the friendly soil
'til those vegetables became the fruit of a farmer's honest toil
They were never loved and cherished, nor on a silver platter served
For a fate that lay in wait for them no potato could deserve
You could say their chips were down, they were dealt a fatal hand
By the worst fish-and-chip shop in the land

It stood there at the centre of a northern market town
A house of ill repute, of such sinister renown
The proprietors, known to the world just as Agnes and Sid
Exuded dismal greasiness in everything they did
Dismal in their conversation, dismal in their face
Above a sign said 'Welcome to the Jolly Fryer's Plaice'
But the welcome you received wasn't the sort you would have planned
At the worst fish-and-ship shop in the land

In a dank and dirty cellar somewhere deep beneath the shop
You could hear a machine grinding on, it never seemed to stop
As black and rusty blades swung round with squeakings and with clunks
To dismember dead potatoes into small and cuboid chunks
Then there was the grease, Sid bought it cheap, it came ex-W.D.
Recycled from the axles of lorries in 1943
And if I told you about the additives, these lyrics would be banned
It was the worst fish-and-chip shop in the land

Well they had one clever trick to bring the customers along
An aerosol of fresh-frying smell, imported from Hong Kong
Attracting helpless customers like moths drawn to a flame
Wedged in the queue they soon regretted that they ever came
As Agnes and Sid shuffle round in perpetual slow motion
Were they waiting for the trawlers returning from the ocean?
Or the potatoes slowly growing? Time trickles by like sand
In the worst fish-and-chip shop in the land

Through the greasy smoke a notice board provided reading matter
You can work out mortgage payments on your sausage done in batter
But the most disturbing entry's at the bottom of the list, it's
Intriguing to imagine what they're selling as 'cat bits'
-then your turn comes, at last you are presented with your prize
The corpse of a haddock and what some call French fries
You stumble to the doorway as you clutch it in your hand
It is the worst fish-and-chip shop in the land

You're standing in the street outside, and gasp the air so sweet
As the fat runs down to form little puddles round your feet
Peel off the greasy paper, you find that what you've bought
Would give Egon Ronay apoplexy of the gastric sort
Nausea rises within you, straight after that first bite
It leaves a leaden aftertaste that lasts a whole fortnight
You lean against a lamp post, your legs weak, you cannot stand
It was the worst fish-and-chip shop in the land

As your head spins round a vision dawns within your mind
Of a world where fish-and-chip shops have all been left behind
Of a world where fish are left in peace to frolic in the seas
Where potatoes undisturbed may flourish at their ease
But then you look down at your purchase, and suddenly you sigh
You throw it in the gutter - where a dog eats it, and dies
The truth at last is clear to you, so now you understand
It was the worst fish-and-chip shop in the land



Just Another Singer/Songwriter

Mummy there's a man at the door now, does he mean us harm?
He's got a strange look in his eyes, and a big box under his arm
No my son don't worry, it's as likely as not
there's a thousand more like him outside, with the same disease he's got
Just another singer/songriter looking for a solo spot

Just another singer/songwriter, with an old Yamaha guitar
He'll play for you anytime any place, nevermind who you are
Might be the Girl Guides coffee evening, or to raise money for the vestry roof
At the Darby and Joan karaoke club, ge's the living proof
Just another singer/songwriter that's the truth

And he sings to the mirror in his own little room
The reflection looking back always stays in tune
Thinks he sees be a star there, he'll never realise
The only stars he sees are the ones in his eyes

Waiting his turn at the folk club, he controls his urges
Patient through sea shanties and a dozen rural dirges
At last his turn it comes round, for a song or two
As he rises everybody tries to escape..
First the music critic from the local paper
The new girl he especially wanted to impress
And three quarters of those present, more or less
All go out to the loo.
As just another singer/songwriter sings the blues.

Just another singer/songwriter treading the same old path
But his innuendos just cause ennui, his jokes don't raise a laugh
Possessed of one conviction, so painful that it shows
That whole world needs to know him - and he's the only one who knows..
Just another singer/songwriter, there he goes

Just another singer/songwriter, hungry for applause
Gets to the end of the fifteenth verse, and all he can hear is snores
Thirty quid for an evening, with an audience of ten
Even when he pays them that, they won't stay to the end
Just another singer/songwriter looking for a friend



Albert Einstein`s Dead

Albert Einstein's dead
Or relatively so
But part of him will always stay
Although he had to go
Once he was living, more or less.
The next he passed away
So presently he's absent
In a quite relative way

Albert Einstein's dead
That's true generally,
Part of him's immortal
The rest of him is dee-
ceased, funct and composed
its relatively clear
We wouldn't recognise him now
If someone brought him here

Albert Einstein's dead
At least, he's not alive
In some ways he's extinct,
But in others, he he survives
So relatively speaking,
It's really good to know
He smiles down on the daisies
he pushes up from below



Polonius` Farewell

They gathered on the river bank
As the boat was carried down
The rugged winding pathway
To where the waters brown
And foaming rolled beneath the wood
That clothed the valley side
And onwards t'ward the eastern sea
And the endless ocean tide

And as it rocked upon the water
A still figure was there
Gently laid upon a bier
Most carefully prepared
Then one stood forth and thrust a brand
That blazed with yellow fire
To kindle flame in what became
Both boat and funeral pyre

And as the river swirling
Plucked the boat away
The flames leapt up towards heaven
And were reflected in the waves
The watchers bade a last farewell
To one who fell on sleep
His river-carried soul was borne
Upon its final journey to the deep

And the fire flared and faded
Within the growing dark
Until far off down the river
They saw a single spark
Flicker in the gloaming
Then fade and die alone....
One more hamster in Valhalla
And an empty cage at home



Please Don`t Stroke The Effigies

In the cathedral shadows Bishop Cantilupe he slept alone
Since 1282 when he was carved in stone
He'd always been a pious man, so chaste and celibate
After seven centuries now see his fate!
Subject to caresses from a band of priestesses
'Making peace with the past' is what they say
But six feet below the nave he is spinning in his grave
Peace is the last thing on his mind today

Please don't stroke the effigies my daughter
For effigies are more than stone and mortar
Your warm and female hands may inflame ancient glands
You'll start them doing things they shouldn't oughter
Please don't stroke the effigies my daughter

Now ancient priests and bishops, barring the odd mishaps
Had no place for women in their lives
For such was their misogeny, they ne'er bore any progeny
(and not being married, neither did their wives)
Now they lie in perpetuity free from all promiscuity
Or so they thought, but look what happens now -
In a thousand ancient churches they cannot escape the clutches
Of those who still would rob them of their vows

Please don't stroke the effigies...

But it came to pass before too long during one choral evensong
They heard a creaking and a cracking from the bishop's tomb
Choirboys and clerics they quite forgot their lyrics
As a stone Cantilupe came lurching through the gloom,
And likewise priests and friars, abbots, bishops, monks and priors
Rose brandishing their croziers of stone
A furnace of fury stoked by the shame of being stroked,
They drive all women from their ancient homes

Please don't stroke the effigies...

This dire confrontation was replayed across the nation
As a thousand dead livings met the living dead
A shambling heavy-footed tribe all stony-faced and stony-eyed
The whole countryside shaking at their tread
Until the Archbishop at last agreed to restrict women's powers
To making tea and sweeping floors and rearranging flowers
And in every ancient church where such monuments lay
To crochet little notices that hang on walls and say...



Bones In The Chimney

It was in the festive season
At the heart of party time
Got a call to go round to a friend's house
With my lady and a bottle of wine
There was a room filled up with people
But I realised something was wrong
Everyone was wearing their overcoats
The heating wasn't on

No-one they could call to fix it
The engineers were partying too
Someone said light a fire in the fireplace
But we'll have to unblock the flue
They got a hammer and a chisel, and the brickwork
was pulled out on the floor
But there was no-one there inside the room
Prepared for what they saw...

There were bones in the chimney
Bones in the chimney
Bones in the chimney
On Christmas Day... (x2)

Well the room was cold but the temperature
Dropped a degree or three
My friend shone a torch inside
So that we all could see
There were rags and tatters of an old red coat
With a lining where fur had been
There were some old kids' toys and an envelope
That said 'Christmas 1914'

And there were bones in the chimney..

Somebody called for the police
Somebody called a priest
I didn't wait round for them to come
I was half way down the street
Now I'm praying to the fairy or the angel
That stands on the Christmas tree
Please just help me forget tonight
I just don't want to see

That there are bones in the chimney...



Sheep In A Wolfs Clothing
When you're white and woolly and a herbivore
Life can be really such a a bore
Got no credibility on the street
When you simply walk round a field and bleat
'though everyone knows I'm a gullible beast
Still its sheer frustration getting fleeced
I've had enough, I'm going to be a WOLF

Went downtown and I made a stop
At the counter of the Oxfam shop
Bought myself some wolfish gear
(second hand, it wasn't dear)
Kit myself out in clip-on claws
Pointy ears, and toothy jaws
Long grey tail that trails behind in a menacing way

I'm a sheep in a wolf's clothing
I'll swap my sheepish smile for either
Fangs or jowls that drip saliva
Brush my toupee of wolf fur
Look you in the eye and I'll say Grrr
I'm a sheep in a wolf's clothing

They thought I was safe inside the pen, in
-stead I was reading a book by Lenin
So I plan the revolution and I smile
There'll be shepherds in a pie and sheep dog trials
(and they'll ALL be guilty)
I've had enough of being meek and mild
Animals are animals, born to be wild!
Come the day when the sheep will inherit the earth

I'm a sheep in a wolf's clothing
I want to walk like a wolf, talk like a wolf,
find some prey and stalk like a wolf
Curl my lip into a sneer, roll my eyeballs as I leer
In such a terrifying way, passers by will stop and say
"Mummy is that a real wolf?"
"Of course not dear, just - a sheep in a wolf's clothing."

I'm a sheep in a wolf's clothing
All my friends they know it's true to
Say there's not a goose that I'd say boo too
I howl at the moon and I get as far
As Ow ow ow ...but it ends up Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa...
I'm a sheep in a wolf's clothing



Just The Denomination Blues

I was walking down the road, I passed half a dozen churches
People looking out like rabbits from their hutches
Everyone was saying 'do it the way we do it'
I say you only judge a tree when you get to taste its fruit

And that's all
You've got to do
But if you ain't got Jesus
You got the Denomination Blues

If you become a Baptist and you do not toe the line
They hold you underneath the water for rather a long time
They make you say the creed before they'll pull the plug
I only got as far as 'I believe... (glug)
and that's all that I could do..

Methodists are electrical, so I have been informed
John Wesley plugged into a circuit, and he got strangely warmed..
But something's cooling down and today it's plain to see
Why when God so loved the world he didn't send a committee
and that's all they seem to do...

If you're a modern Anglican you'll find you've missed the bus
If your vicar is a Mr, not a Mrs or a Ms
The rules have all been changed so now its so easy
To get onto the PCC as long as you are PC
and that's all you have to do...

Or if you want to worship with a Catholic congregation
You can have bells and smells and - transubstantiation
You'd never think the priest could be a wealthy man
But by registerin' as a charity and not paying the vat - he can
And that's all he had to do...

Oh- did I get it all wrong
'if we follow the same leader we all should get along
Oh - well its a puzzle to me
I cannot help but mention that I found a little tension
Inviting Ian Paisley and the Pope for tea..

I could be a Pentecostal but I'd always have the fear
I could only praise the Lord by swinging from a chandelier
You need reconditioned shoes and reconditioned lungs
To shout out loud 'my souls been healed - and I've got other tongues' (Hallelujah!)
and that's all they seem able to do....

Well the Salvation Army have got it all planned
You can only get to Heaven if you're led by a brass band
They dress you in a uniform, now I know what it's for
Its to prove you're ready to fight in the Boer War (1897 - 1902)
And that's all you have to do...

Went to a Reformed fellowship where they talk about election
But John Calvin wasn't voting when it came to my selection
If I'd persevered with the saints maybe I'd be there still
But I was predestined to leave of my own free will
And that's all I was able to do...

Oh - its a mystery to me
Can't see the reasons we can't all agree
Got to find someone to discuss it all with
So I went up to Durham, to see the bishop
But I found out he was a myth...

Went down to the House Church, I went there with my mother
I took a big tarpaulin 'cos a woman needs a cover
Hadn't stayed there long when I found out to my cost
That when the shepherding's too heavy then the sheep all end up squashed
It left me feeling flat (and black and blue)....

Looking for a way out of this situation
Trying to find the lowest common denomination
Been into every type of church stayed long enough to try it
Think I'll end up as a Quaker - if I can ever keep that quiet (ssh)
and that's all...



Salisbury

The river runs where the river ran, beyond the fields the green hills stand
The city clusters round its single spire
The years have come and the years have gone, some things pass some linger on
Some by default and others by desire

Salisbury

Evening light upon the Close the white walls standing like a ghost
And evensong an echo on the wind
Saints and martyrs row on row, look out through sightless eyes of stone
And somewhere in the dark a devil grins

Salisbury

The poor man worked and the poor man paid his taxes as the stones were laid
The walls rose high above the city street
Spirit breathed and flesh denied, or last disguise of man's own pride
A century, the vision was complete

Salisbury

But now six hundred years have gone, the time has slipped away
The tide of faith receded from the shore
The crowds pour through, but these have come to stop and stand and stare
And no-one kneels to pray here anymore
Does God sit with his begging bowl beside the western door
craving crumbs from the table of the nouveau riche
In fear these walls will crumble and his house come tumbling down
We ask a paltry passing pound from each

And that is just the price of a slight unease of conscience
The clergy smile, there's none so bold to tell
The truth they've hidden away now and never dare to say
- that only Christ can save your soul from
Hell

Salisbury

He is not here he has risen, he has broken from your prison
Of Gothic architecture, carven stone
The day will dawn as dawn it must when all cathedrals fall to dust
But those who trust are never left alone
In council house kitchens and in tin-roofed tabernacles
In bus stations, or outside on the street
God will meet with man, until his great eternal plan
Is turned full circle and time is complete

Salisbury

The river runs where the river ran, beyond the fields the green hills stand
The city clusters round its single spire
The years have come and the years have gone, some things pass some linger on
Some by default and others by desire...