This blog is a home for a lot
of my older (pre-2008) poems. On here you
will find some poems that have already been published elsewhere by
someone else, some poems that have been published in my first book "More about
the song" and some poems that no-one will probably ever want to publish
anywhere. As on the old website the posts are arranged, roughly, by
subject/theme/content/size. Click on the links below to move more quickly to
a particular group of poems... or just move about at your own pace. Email me if there's anything you like and/or want to use. Newer poems are on my up-to-date blog and scattered about elsewhere online and on paper.
Poems that are about songs or like songs or that have been made into songs at some point.
You can hear (or buy!) the most recent version of 'Xmas No. 1' by Kinnaber Junction (Gary Anderson) here. This was a poem of mine called 'Straight In' that Gary made into a song a couple of years ago.
One of my fairly old poems, 'Significant other deceased', is now a song on the new album by Scottish musician Kim Edgar 'Untold Stories' (2016). That poem is still available on a postcard too.
Also, one of my poems 'Michael Marra's Visit to the Links Hotel' became a song by Montrose singer/songwriter Gary Anderson (now using name Kinnaber Junction to avoid confusion with darts players...):
Gary also took my 'Angus Adoption Song' and gave it a tune (as well as 'Auchmithie Road' but no video for that):
And some old poems/lyrics... some have been songs previously but are currently... resting.
It's still blowing, Bob
How many roads must they build around
here before they run out of land?
How many seas must we empty of life before we begin to understand?
How many times will we regret what we've done before we can make better plans?
Chorus The trampolines, round here, are blowing in the wind
The trampolines are blowing in the wind
How many years can a child save their
tears before they are drowned in the sea?
How many years can we try and buy love before we shut about me?
And how many times can we get it all wrong before we learn life's ABC?
Chorus
How many songs must there be in this
world before we hear what they say?
How many words will we throw all around before we clear some away?
And how many Bobs do we see nowadays and how many more on their way?
Chorus
Love song without a tune
There’s a hole in my hearth
Where the fire should be
My guitar’s short a string
Is it G, D or E?
My music’s too lonely
It sings a sad song
And sad can be tiresome
When it goes on this long
Chorus
There’s a gap in my life
There’s no lace in my shoe
Cos I’ve plenty of stuff
But I can’t find a you
I’ve no warmth in my bed
It’s a double for one
No surprise in my cornflakes
The food without fun
There’s a huge gaping hole
Where my loved one should be
I’ve a big full hot teapot
But no two for tea
Chorus
I’m not a bad person
I have love to share
But I can’t find a taker
And I’ve looked everywhere
So the hearth remains cold
And the bed just the same
I’d find you much quicker
If I just knew your name
Chorus
Musical chores
Robert Plant helped with the ironing today
Kate Rusby gave a hand with the cleaning
A little bit of Bjork did the trick up till tea
And some Eels gave the dishes more meaning
Nina Simone is a wonder in the home
Any chore's less a bore with our Nina
And when June Tabor sings, why my dishcloth has wings
No, I never shall be wanting a cleaner
Not tonight, Radiohead
Please, my love, perhaps not Radiohead tonight
Right on the pulse of our lives it may be
But it's dark, so dark, and I need to feel light
I work all day to keep up the fight
To smile in the face of that creep misery
So please, my love, perhaps not Radiohead tonight
Now I know that light can be taken for trite
(Or something much worse which also rhymes tight)
But sight can play tricks and you might never see
How in darkest of dark, you can so need light
And we may love truth with all our might
But at times less pain can set us free
So please, my love, perhaps not Radiohead tonight
Instead joyous sounds, so hot they ignite
Disco or banjo or sweet harmony
When it gets this dark, it's not wrong to need light
I don't want a fake promise, it'll be alright
I'm not stupid, you know, just a little weary
So please, my love, perhaps not Radiohead tonight
In the dark, cruel dark, give me light, warm light
Second to nun
Clothes out of curtains and warbling
nuns
Big dreamy moons and sleepy old suns
Seeing a lighthouse from high on a swing
These are a few of my favourite things
Chocolate fingers and friendly bus
drivers
Finally calmer rave era survivors
Hearing the radio starting to sing
These are a few of my favourite things
Big umbrellas and good working plumbing
A real surprise you didn't see coming
Lemon and tonic and ice cubes and gin
These are a few of my favourite things
When the bills come
When life's no fun
When I'm feeling done
I simply remember my favourite things
And then I don't feel so glum
Sing when you're nervous
Say up in a plane
And you're having a panic
You're looking at exits
And feeling quite manic
There's one thing to do
And it won't please the rest
Just fill up your lungs
Give your larynx a test
Chorus
Yes, sing when you're nervous
It covers the quiet
It brightens the terror
Why don't you just try it?
Sing any song
To channel emotion
Sing it with soul
With hope and devotion
Outside the dentist
And hit by that smell
Inside's so scary
A vision of hell
You so want to run
But your teeth need to stay
Close your eyes tight
Let your song lead the way
Chorus
Lost in the shops
Swamped in a crowd
Feel so like screaming
Or howling out loud
Instead sing a chorus
And aim for a tune
Harness some energy
Fly to that moon
Chorus
Croak by croak
I'm not quite the singer that I'd like to be,
who is on this earth – we've a fault at our core –
but I do what I do and the struggle is me.
There are notes that I know but they come out off key,
the fight never ends – see the bloody cuts pour.
I'm not quite the singer that I'd like to be.
I've been right and all wrong, sometimes for the same fee,
now a saint, then a bitch, some would even say whore,
but I do what I do and the struggle is me.
There's a band that I hear, they play just perfectly
and I try to join in but can't get past their door.
I'm not quite the singer that I'd like to be.
The music's so strong with its highs, hits and glee,
we get battered and laughed at and lonely and sore
but I do-be-do-do and the struggle is me.
It seems silly to sing when the sound's all at sea –
there's a shell at my ear and it whispers 'encore'.
I'm not quite the singer that I'd like to be
but I do what I do and my struggle is me.
The sisters said it best
I've always been
Lost in music
It's never felt
Like a trap
It's always felt
Just the right place
To wander loose
Off the track
Here I go now
Lost in music
I'm not sure if
I'll be back
