1. THE VILLAGE FOOL
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1970s

The village fool goes everywhere, singing to the empty air
Empty air and empty head, he doesn't care just sings instead
Are you lonely, Oh no sir says he
The birds and beasts they are my friends
And always will I sing for them
Good morning I sing
Good morning do I sing.

He stands upon the village green, making faces dreaming dreams
Seeing things and being things, the village people they smile at him
Do they hurt you, oh no sir says he
All these people are my friends
And always will I sing for them
Good morning I sing
Good morning do I sing.

Once when all his roses died, first he laughed and then he cried
Empty heads don't realize, seasons change and flowers die
In his sadness and his madness still he sings
The flowers all they are my friends
And always will I sing for them
Good morning I sing
Good morning do I sing.

He strolls along, he rambles on, and everywhere he sings his song
And through the trees and on the breeze, his broken voice comes merrily
Are you happy, oh yes sir says he
All these things they are my friends
And always will I sing for them
Good morning I sing
Good morning do I sing.

The village fool goes everywhere, singing to the empty air
Empty air and empty head, he doesn't care just sings instead
Are you happy, oh yes sir says he
All these people are my friends
And always will I sing for them
Good morning I sing
Good morning do I sing

2a. THE HARPER
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1970s

When the sun touched the brow of every hill
Sweet music flowed like a stream
Over everything it teemed
And the village did awake to the day.
When the sun touched the door of every home
Every child, woman, man stood together on the land
And the travelling man came tripping down the lane.

CH:
The harper plays, the harper sings
And all the valley gently ringing with the song
And still we hear the song the harper plays.

As the morning passed into the afternoon
Still we listened to him play
No work was done that day
As he held us fast before him with his song.
He sat there with his harp upon his knee
His fingers danced upon the strings
As a spider surely spins
With silken sounds he wove into the air.

CH

When the evening marked the passing of the day
His harp he gently laid it down
Picked the farthings from the ground
And without a word went tripping down the lane.
We stood a while as if within some dream
Then we shook our senses clear
But still we seem to hear
Each and every note the harper played.

CH

2b. FINAGLE'S DREAM
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1970s

Long have I wandered far and wide with my harp in the misty mornings
Many's the song and the tune I played on many a starry evening.
Played you a jig and I played you a reel
Played for a penny, a drink or a meal
But I dream of a day at court I'll kneel
And play to a king and his lady.

CH:
Well I've waited long to play my songs
But now I am old and leaning.
You hear the old man sighing near
'Tis Finagle the harper dreaming.

In the summers I played in the meadows green with my songs both gentle and stirring
In the long cold nights I played in the light of the tavern fires burning.
Songs of the forest and songs of the sea
A song for your brothers and a song for thee
But I dream of a day at court I'll kneel
And play to a king and his lady.

CH

But the seasons they pass and the short years fly, creeping upon my shoulders
The legs grow weak and the eyes grow dim and the nights are feeling colder
Now I am aged, my head is old
My hands are feeble and my fingers cold
And my songs are forgotten and strewn by the road
And all of my tunes forsaken.

CH twice

3. MR . LOWRY
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1970s

The doors close behind me, gently through the library
And down whispering galleries, to where the great men lie
But Rembrandt I pass him by, Salvador I let him lie
I know they will never die, and they don't need me today.

The book I am seeking is there in my hands,
A book full of pictures by a Lancashire man
I stand here for ages, turning the pages
And I'm lost in those images...and the room is fading away.

And I hear the busy sound of moving feet
Iron wheels on cobbled streets
An organ grinders cranking beat
A ragamuffin child hmmmm

The streets of Salford old and tired
Matchstick people thin as wire
And smoky chimneys, distant spires
Shadows on the sky hmmmm

CH:
Mr Lowry saw them all, the crippled men, the urban sprawl
Somehow he made them beautiful, those shadows on the sky.

Somewhere a clock is striking three, to rouse me from my reverie
I'll take this book home with me, then I can read some more.
The doors close behind me, I leave the silent library
And I walk down to Salford Quay, in Mr Lowry's land.

And I think of yachts at Lytham tall and proud
A brass band, a football crowd
Weekends at fairgrounds, summers by the sea hmmmmm

I see the walls of Salford falling down
Children on the wasted ground
And little people going down to broken hearted mills hmmmmm

CH.

4. MAN OF THE EARTH
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1970s

Every day as I go through the old shanty town where the sheds and allotments all stand
I see an old man on his land with a rake or a spade in his hands
And he's there in all weather in sunshine or rain and I hesitate as I go past
Is he happy or sad with his task, oh I haven't the time for to ask

CH:
The man of the earth the man of the soil
In his lonely allotment he labours and toils
There's not much to do since he turned sixty five
So he took to his garden to keep him alive
And I think it's his joy and his pride.

Fifty years in the ironworks broke his will and his back and his shoulders are round
There was no other work in the town, so they had him both fettered and bound
Then all of a sudden he turned sixty five and his bosses said thankyou my man
And they stuck a gold watch in his hand and behind him the door quickly slammed

CH

Every Saturday evening he's down at the pub and he stands by himself at the bar
Slowly sipping a solitary jar, oh a pension won't go very far
So he sells a few things to his neighbours and friends, a few of the things that he grows
But he's got to watch out how he goes or they'll stop all his pension he knows

CH

Every day as I go through the old shanty town where the sheds and allotments all stand
I see an old man on his land with a rake or a spade in his hands
But I really can't linger I must be gone, for I work in the ironworks too
Oh I started there five years ago, only forty five more to go

CH

5. SAILING TO THE MOON Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1970s

Come let's be travellers said the dreamer to the fool
And leave this cold and weary town behind us, me and you
And we will go wandering where the winds of fortune blow
Like troubadours and heroes upon the open road.

CH:
With a sweet concertina to play them a tune
The fool and the dreamer go sailing to the moon.

The fool he listens quietly, the fool is never bored
Though he's heard the dreamers wistful words a thousand times before
The dreamer weaves, the fool believes, believing is his way
And he likes to hear the dreamer, and the things he has to say.

CH

They'll never leave this dirty town, they'll never even start
For the dust of time is heavy on their habits and their hearts.
But still they'll go on talking of things they'll never do
For the dreamer does no more than dream...
And the fool is just a fool.

CH twice.

6. THE WINDWITCH
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1970s

Where do you go with your sword held so, your crucifix and bible in the morning?
I go to the hills where the Windwitch dwells and I'll take away her life this very evening
For many's the year she has made men to fear to be travelling her forest in the evening
Many journeys do end on that path in the glen when she thirsts for your blood to be drinking.
So I took my sword and my Book of the Lord and I did go to her doorway darkling

Rise up from your sleep in your cavern so deep, come out and be slain this very moment
So that travellers may tread without fear and without dread for their lives and their souls to be stolen
She howled like the wind, like the cold Wintry wind and she laughed like the crows of the forest
I'll break all your bones and I'll drink all your blood and I'll leave you for the crows in the forest.
Then she called for her fiends, her demons and fiends and the air did grow cold with the evil.

They crawled from the trees and from under the stones, they slid and they slithered to meet me
They tore at my clothes and they tore at my skin and they clawed at my heart to defeat me.
I slaughtered them there with my sword and my prayer and they fell and they died there before me

Then I turned to that witch, to that black eldritch and she ran to her cave to escape me.
So I took my sword and my book of the Lord and I did enter her doorway darkling.

Ye witch o' the night I come to do the right, to slay you in the name of the Lord
With these words no sooner said, I did strike off her head and the black blood did spill and did pour.

I builded a fire for a funeral pyre, and her black broken body I burned
Then taking my sword and my book of the Lord, to my home I did return.

7. DAVY
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1970s

My name is Davy, though some have called me king of fools
For I laid down my tools and I went away in a sailing ship on a cold grey day
For a stranger in my soul was telling me to go and seek the world around
He said

CH:
Davy, Davy
Your heart is wild your heart is free
Davy, Davy
Sing your songs beyond the sea, beyond the sea.

I was a sailor and many's the ship that I sailed in
And with my mandoline 'neath harbour lights
I have sung for the moon on moonless nights
And in those dingy harbour bars I played the lusty tar and many's the maiden I sailed in
And they cried

CH

I was a wanderer in every sweet and bitter land
And on some desert sands I have longed somehow
For an English breeze on this English brow
And times I've been alone with dreams of going home when my stranger he came to me
He said

CH

I was a seeker and I sought all the treasures of the old
I found a horn of gold 'neath a golden tree
Then the gypsies danced and sang with me
And many's the winter's day we played the cold away till those rovers they said to me
They said

CH

When I'm an old man may the west winds carry me back home
Just a plain gravestone and a place to lie
In an English field 'neath an English sky
But I've a long way yet to go and sometimes I feel as though my journeys will never end

CH

8. LADY OF STYLE
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1970s

She's a lady of style, a lady of leisure
Born as she was on the right side of town
She goes to the shows and all the gymkhanas
And round the regattas her charms are well known.

But she can't stand those young men in their blazers and boaters
The small talk, the high teas, the strawberries and cream
On the outside she seems to be genteel and charming
But deep in her heart something longs to be free.
And when dinner is over she retires to her chamber
She paints up her face and she takes off her gown
And she dresses herself in the feathers and the frills
Of the floozies of old London town.

Ah she knows all the bars in the backstreets of Soho
And most of the men from the Park to the Square
And down the east end some nights you can see her
Swiggin' the gin with the best of them there.

In the old public bar well it's 'ello me dearie
She leans on a creakin' pianner and sings
And as likely as not she'll end up with a feller
Rough as a badger and thinkin' one thing.
But she likes her men rough and she likes her men ready
She don't go with the young toffs what come slummin' round
No she has her good times with the boys from the Palais
In the back lanes and alleys of old London town.
And when the evening is over it's goodbye rough lover
And calling a cab she rides into the night
From the grimy old streets to those clean Avenues
Where the brass and the gaslights are bright.

And father next day saying 'How was last evening?
Was it bridge at the Parkers or the opera with Miles?'
She coughs and she says 'It was really quite boring,
But I wasn't myself' and she secretly smiles.
And she thinks of last night with her lower caste lover
The music, the laughter, the old smoke filled rooms
And she waits once again till dinner is over
She'll go back to her lover in old London town.

9. SONG OF THE CROOKED OAK
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1970s

Like an old and crippled man
The ageing oak tree stands
Being bent with the seasons
And crooked on the land.
So twisted there he grows
Both stunted and low
'Tis sad to see a noble tree
Bow his head so.

And the people of the town
Would come to hew it down
With axes and with shining blades
Would cut it to the ground
But the tree will not be moved
For the bark cannot be grooved
'Tis said from dark beginnings
The crooked oak tree grew.

If you could be aroused
I'd make you tell somehow
Of the vagabonds and murderers
A'hanged from your boughs
Of all the knaves and thieves
Who slept beneath your leaves
And all the ones with broken hearts
Who came to you to grieve.

This crooked crooked one
Who stood the years so long
Will still be standing silently
When all of us have gone.
For men do not live long
And though other men are born
Bent in silent laughter
The Crooked Oak lives on..

12. PHOTOGRAPHS
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1970s

She stays at home
She sits among those rags of worn out dreams
She’s hanging on, she’s wondering why life’s just like the stories
In her romance magazines

There’s a photograph upon the shelf, a colour polaroid
Taken in more pleasant times, nicely framed and neatly signed
A picture of a boy.

CH:
It’s just a photograph, and photographs
Are only scraps of time
A frozen moment, a still guitar
A silent song in a timeless bar
How many miles behind.

He haunts her
Still he haunts her with his everlasting smile
But still she keeps his photograph, who knows and maybe still perhaps
He might come back sometime.

She reads the music papers, each line and paragraph
She has to know just where he is, and all the papers seem to have
His smiling photograph.

CH

She stays at home
She sits among those rags of worn out dreams
Still hanging on, still wondering why life’s just like the stories
In her romance magazines.

There’s a photograph upon the shelf taken long ago
The memories are colourless, the photograph is fading
Just like polaroids all do.

CH

14. OLD FASHIONED CLOWN
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1970s

I was born with the sound of applause in me ears though it wasn't for me at the time
They called for me father and they gave him the facts
There's a new pair of feet in the Song and Dance act
But me Dad laid it all on the line.
He said 'No, no, he'll be no dancer, he'll not break his back to earn bread,
And anyway lad, with a hooter like that you can just be a comic instead'.

Well I grew to me trade and I took all me falls and soon I got into the show,
And every damned evening from seven till ten
It was get up, fall down and then get up again
And I was breaking me back anyway.
But oh how we all loved those days as we travelled around with the show
And well I remember the good times we had though it all seems like so long ago

CH:
Whatever happened to the old music halls
They died in the fight between the armchair and the stalls.
So take me to the archive and lay me head down
I'm an antique, a relic and an old fashioned clown.

We travelled the land from Brighton to Crewe, from Bognor to Berwick-on -Tweed
And there down the line well me family died
And they went to that music hall up in the sky
And I carried on all alone.
And oh how variety boomed, there was plenty of work to go round
Till one dark day for us all television appeared in the land.

CH

Well at first it seemed that nothing had changed, all just went on as before
We all laughed it off, just one more passing phase
You can't beat real people upon a real stage
But things didn't happen that way.
And one by one the old theatres started a-closing their doors
Till now there's nowhere at all for us troupers to tread on the boards

CH.

15. TIME STANDS STILL IN LONDON
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1970s

Yesterday in London city lost within the crowd
Always feel that way it’s just that kind of town
Pressing in from every way it makes you want to hide
Me I found a small oasis
By the riverside.

CH:
Oh peace and quiet Monday morning
Down beside the Thames
Time stands still in London every now and then.

Walked along the old embankment just above the bridge
Past the small boats lying at the water’s edge
Some sun shone down between the clouds and gentle breezes played
The traffic in the city seemed
A hundred miles away

CH

A place to think, a place to wonder, watch the water rise
Or watch the seagulls wheeling underneath the sky
Or lie beneath some shady tree and watch the boats along
Simply make the most of it
This harbour from the storm

CH

If I were an artist I’d paint about this time
If I were a poet then I’d make some rhyme
But I am just a traveller and I should be moving on
Back into the city where I fear
I do belong

CH

16. THE GOBLIN'S RIDDLE
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1970s

'Twas on a cold and a blustery day, the wind was in the trees oh
So high and low did it howl away and whistled through the leaves
The clouds they fled across the sky, in rags and ruins flew
And the day was dark and cold for all the Wintry winds they blew oh.

'Twas on a cold and a blustery day my love and I we wandered
All along o' the wilderwood we rambled hand in hand
We came abreast of an oaken tree and there we were surprised
For out there jumped a goblin man and he was dressed in leafy guise oh

He was clothed from head to toe in green, as green as green can be oh
With leafy hair and a leafy beard he looked just like a tree
He said I have a riddle, you must answer it for me
For you know I am the old Green Man, the keeper of the trees oh.

"What is't that grows just like a leaf but not from any tree oh
And can't be picked by any thief no matter who he be
And can't be seen by any man but can be seen to be
And can't be touched by any hand but it's surely touching thee oh"

Well my love and I we both sat down, we were in great despair oh
For an answer to that riddle we should surely never find
Well an hour had passed and then at last the answer came to me
And up I sprang to the Goblin man, I said I have it here for thee oh

Well the answer is True Love said I, now you must set us free oh
And the goblin he did rant and rave saying 'You have cheated me'!
He stamped his foot not once but twice and then he disappeared
And the wind it dropped and the sun came out and the day was bright and clear oh.