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  n&n. library. lyrics.
 © thomas gygax & norbert pauls [supplement]. no unauthorised reproduction.
b
back in the day

back on the dance floor

back to Tupelo

bad day for a knife thrower

baloney again

Basil

beachcombing

before gas and tv

behind with the rent

belle starr

Bernadette

Beryl

beyound my wildest dreams

blood and water

bluebird

boom like that

border reiver

the boy

broken bones


back in the day
from 'down the road wherever'

You had to know what you were doing
Up on the band
Nobody lining up
To come give you a hand
No way could you fake it
At 18th and Vine
And we could really put the sauce on it
We’d do it all the time

We was hot as smokin’ pistols
Chopping everybody down
winging like dogs, man
Kings of the town
There’d be a cutting contest
You had to do your research
I’d pull out a lick or two
Yeah, you’d maybe get to try
A couple things you learned
But you had to do your homework
‘Cause a gig was earned

When swing turned into bebop
It was all going on
Blowing all night
On past the dawn
I might play all day
I might play all night
Whatever made you stronger, baby
That was alright
Yeah, you’d maybe get to try
A couple things you’d learned
But you had to know your business
‘Cause everybody burned

Well a beer was a nickel
A whiskey was a dime
They’d come to Kansas City
See the girls on Vine
Might get a hot shot
Wanna bring along his horn
We liked to clean ‘em up
And head ‘em back where they belong
So long

But it’s just the old malarkey
That’ll wear you down
Some people are the pits, man
There’s always some around
Some will take advantage
If they can
It’s the old baloney sandwich
You dig me, man?
I’m talking about a time
When every man could play
But that’s the way it was
Back in the day

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back on the dance floor
from 'down the road wherever'
Hand me down my high roller Stetson
Hand me down my smokeless .41
We’re gonna look so sharp when we walk in
They’re gonna be jazzed we come

We’re going for the major comeback
For the motherlode, the mighty score
We’ll be the toast of every knocked out boogie shack
Now we’re back on the dancefloor

Going all the way is the only way to go
The only game in town
Shake your moneymaker closer to the floor
Shake ‘em on down, shake ‘em on down

Hand me down my two-tone wingtips
Hand me down my skull head walking cane
You all gotta wear them shantung gambler suit
s They’re gonna be jazzed we came

We’re going for the major comeback
For the motherlode, the mighty score
We’ll be the toast of every knocked out boogie shack
Now we’re back on the dancefloor

Going all the way is the only way to go
The only game in town
Shake your moneymaker closer to the floor
Shake ‘em on down, shake ‘em on down

We’re going for the major comeback
For the motherlode, the mighty score
We’ll be the toast of every knocked out boogie shack
Now we’re back on the dancefloor

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back to Tupelo
from 'shangri-la'
Around the time of ’Clambake’
Movie number twenty-five
You and the lying dutchman
Are still in overdrive
You’re as strong as when you started
Mississippi in your soul
You can still be Marlon Brando
And the king of rock and roll

It isn’t just the records
No, you must have Hollywood
The songs alone are not enough
That much is understood
You’ll soon be back in Memphis
Maybe then you’ll know what to do
The storylines they’re giving you
Are just not ringing true

Oh, it’s a ways to go
Back to Tupelo

when you’re young and beautiful
Your dreams are all ideals
Later on it’s not the same
Lord, everything is real
Sixteen hundred miles of highway
Roll back to the truth
And a song to give your mother
In your first recording booth

Around the time of ’Clambake’
That old dream’s still rolling on
Sometimes there’ll be the feeling
Things are going wrong
The morning star is fading
Lord, the Mississippi’s cold
You can still be Marlon Brando
And the king of rock and roll

But it’s a ways to go
Back to Tupelo

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bad day for a knife thrower
from 'the boy'
Rain’s like thunder on the canvas
It’s been coming down hard all day
You’ll get the weather
And the people all staying away
On the old showground
On the edge of town
And the wind buffeting the van
Well, whatever
I still don’t have a plan

Tried to call you once or twice
Drawing a blank
That thing we talked about
I need to see it in the bank
Sitting like a dud in the fairground mud
Everything is slower
It’s been a bad day
For a knife thrower

It was a pound a round in ‘64
With all us kids to feed
They stuck together
For whatever it was we’d need
Truth is he was flying
On one engine all the time
Out on the racecourse
He knew a bookie in disorganised crime

When he couldn’t pick up a payday
Or anything else
He’d have to come through
With a tenner or two
Have a little bet against himself
Sitting like a dud in the fairground mud
Feel I’m sinking lower
It’s been a bad day
For a knife thrower
Sitting like a dud in the fairground mud
Feel I’m sinking lower
It’s been a bad day
For a knife thrower

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baloney again
from 'sailing to Philadelphia'
We don't eat in no white restaurant
We're eating in the car
Baloney again, baloney again
We don't sleep in no white hotel bed
We're sleepin' in the car, baloney again
You don't strut around in these country towns
You best stay in the car
Look on ahead don't stare around
You best stay where you are
You're a long way from home, boy
Don't push your luck too far
Baloney again

Twenty-two years we've sung the word
Since nineteen thirty-one
Amen, I say amen
Now the young folk want to praise the Lord
With guitar, bass and drums, amen
Well I'll never get tired of Jesus
But it's been a heavy load
Carrying His precious love
Down a long dirt road
We're a long way from home
Just let's pay the man and go
Baloney again

The lord is my shepherd
He leadeth me in pastures green
He gave us this day
Our daily bread and gasoline
Go under the willow
Park her up beside the stream
Shoulders for pillows
Lay down your head and dream
Shoulders for pillows
Lay down your head and dream

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Basil
from 'tracker'
My Saturday job pays six and six down
A copy boy at the Chronicle
Five cigarettes and two silver half crowns
Meeting Vince at Mark Toney’s in town
Boy, do we get around

Basil sits there on the table for subs
But not a part of the Bri-nylon club
Ancient blue sweater, too old for the job
Bored out of his mind
With the Colins and Bobs

I’m a jack and a lad
And I’m up for the world
And I’ve kissed a Gateshead girl

He calls for a copy boy, grumpy as hell
Poets have to eat as well
What he wouldn’t give just to walk out today
To have time to think about time
And young love thrown away

I’m a jack and a lad
And I’m up for the world
And I’ve kissed a Gateshead girl

Starlings swarming
A cloud over Grainger Street
Over the black church
Over the Black Gate
And the shadowy Keep

He peers through his wire rims
At the fish and chip words
He’s supposed to dish up and forget
His drudgery now has become slightly blurred
By one of his Players untipped cigarettes

Bury all joy
Put the poems in sacks
And bury me here with the hacks

In the summer the fair
Will stretch over the Moor
Lovers will lie and make out in the park
Basil puts on his old duffel and scarf
And goes out into the dark

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beachcombing
from 'all the roadrunning'
They say there’s wreckage washing up
All along the coast
No one seems to know too much
Or who got hit the most
Nothing has been spoken
There’s not a lot to see
But something has been broken
That’s how it feels to me

We had a harmony
I never meant to spoil
Now it's lying in the water
Like a slick of oil
The tide is running out to sea
Under a darkening sky
The night is falling down on me
And I’m thinking that I should

Head on home
Been gone too long
Leave my roaming
Beachcombing

Little wild kitten out hunting
To see what he can get
You’re in a big city now
That won’t stop growing yet
The sun is going down smoking
A flaming testament
Something has been broken
And it feels permanent

Little seabird flying
He knows where he wants to go
Guess I ought to pack my stuff
And do the thing I know
I turn around and head on back
Along the old sea wall
I felt something give and crack
And now I’m sorry that’s all

Head on home
Been gone too long
Leave my roaming
Beachcombing

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before gas and tv
from 'get lucky'
Before gas and TV
before people had cars
we’d sit round the fires
pass around a guitar
remembering songs
When my daddy was home
he’d play along
on the spoons and a comb

We’d go with the flow
When the weather was fine
sometimes we’d go
collecting scrap iron
Then we’d sit round the fires
pass a bottle of wine
and the tales of the road
since time out of mind

If heaven’s like this
well, that’s okay with me
where the living is fine
and living is free
If heaven’s like this
well, then here’s where I’ll be
on the edge of the field
on the edge of the world
before gas and TV

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behind with the rent
from 'kill to get crimson'
This didn't used to be me, old boy
This isn't what I'd want
pulling old night fighters
in a restarant
There's smoke and flames behind me
where the self-respect all went
and I'm behind, behind
with the rent

I've been stitched up like a kipper, old son
but I won't be again
Hell hath no fury
Oh, I'm like a lot of men
Now I'm stalking this old Doris
with lascivious intent
and I'm behind, behind
with the rent

Just a little duck and dive
and a bit of wheel and deal
She'll remind me I'm alive
She'll remind me I still feel
Just a little shelling out
for a bit of you-know-what
I know this is all about
something that I never got

Well this crumpet's past it's sell-by-date
but the all would qualify
The're going to be lonely
and be happy to comply
She knows that I'm a chancer
coming on like a gent
but I'm behind, behind
with the rent
Yes, I'm behind, behind
with the rent

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belle starr
Emmylou Harris
from 'all the roadrunning'
My mamma and my daddy
Told me love is a two-way street
But lately baby, you've been finding
New ways of dragging yout feet
So come on, make your best shot
You don't have to take the blame
I'll be your belle star
You can be my Jesse James

There's lonely people everywhere
From Abilene to Arkansas
The way they run for cover
You'd think love was against the law
Well i don't need a pistol, baby
You won't have to rob a train
You can be my belle star
And I can be your Jesse James

I know you've done some hard time
Baby, and you've got your doubts
When you feel surrounded
And it's looking there's no way out
I'll come riding to rescue
All you gotta do is call my name
I'll be your belle star
You can be my Jesse James

It don't take a genius, baby
There aint no big mystery
You can't play it safe
And still go down in history
So saddle up the horses
'Cos we're headed for the hall of fame
I'll be your belle star
You can be my Jesse James
I'll be your belle star
You can be my Jesse James

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Bernadette
David Knopfler

Bernadette comes, Bernadette goes
Berny is changing the bedrooms
Berny is sharp, she is nobody's fool
Berny got thrown out of school

It's a wasted life and wasted time
What's it gonna take to make a change
Wasted life and wasted time
What's it gonna take to make you change your mind

Bernadette

She can't live alone so she lives with a man
He's putting her down every chance he can
She married a fool who's in love with himself
Don't give a damn about anyone else

It's a wasted life and wasted time
What's it gonna take to make a change
Wasted life and wasted time
What's it gonna take to make you change your mind

Bernadette

And it's a wasted life and wasted time
What's it gonna take to make a change
Wasted life and wasted time
What's it gonna take to make you change your mind

It's a wasted life and wasted time
What's it gonna take to make a change
Wasted life and wasted time
What's it gonna take to make you change your mind

Bernadette

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Beryl
from 'tracker'
Beryl was on another level
When she got a Booker medal
She was dead in her grave
After all she gave
After all she gave

Beryl, every time they’d overlook her
When they gave her a Booker
She was dead in her grave
After all she gave
After all she gave

It’s all too late now
It’s all too late now
It’s too late, you dabblers
It’s all too late
It’s too late, you dabblers
It’s all too late

Beryl, the tobacco overtook her
When they gave her a Booker
She was dead in her grave
After all she gave
After all she gave

It’s all too late now
It’s all too late now
It’s too late, you dabblers
It’s all too late
It’s too late, you dabblers
It’s all too late

Beryl was on another level
When she got a Booker medal
She was dead in her grave
After all she gave
After all she gave
After all she gave
After all she gave

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beyound my wildest dreams
from 'all the roadrunning'
I didn't ask for as much
As maybe I ought've
But I'm staying in touch
With the one I love
And I can see in the dials
And in this headlight beams
Beyond my wildest
Beyond my wildest dreams
Beyond my wildest dreams
Beyond my wildest dreams
I've been with you
I've been with you

These are the big payloads
Hammer down on the floor
These are the restless roads
Every one a war
But in the flashing lines
I see a love supreme
Beyond my wildest
Beyond my wildest dreams
Beyond my wildest dreams
Beyond my wildest dreams
I've been with you
I've been with you

They promised me some good home time
And ome layover pay
The agent he's a friend of mine
Says it's due my way

I'd drive a thousand miles
Haul a trailer of tears
Just to see you smile
And as the dawn appears
At the edge of the night
There's still a light that gleams
Beyond my wildest
Beyond my wildest dreams
Beyond my wildest dreams
Beyond my wildest dreams
I've been with you
I've been with you

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blood and water
from 'privateering'
Blood and water bound to overflow
Blood and water bound to overflow
Well there's no more high water
But the Old Man's just waiting, I know

He was sent up on the levee
Now they've gone up country
They won't do nothing for you now
And don't go asking me
They've gone - it's all over here
Sometimes I'd see her passing
With the evening coming on
I've seen you on her pathway
I've seen you at dawn
Look over yonder at that empty shack
You know as well as I do
Theyain't coming back
They're gone - it's all over here

Blood and water bound to overflow
Blood and water bound to overflow
Well there's no more high water
But the Old Man's just waiting, I know

So many promises
We broke them, every one
Kept people on the levees
Withsherrifs and shotguns
They're gone - it's all over here
Look over yonder at that empty shack
You know as well as I do
Theyain't coming back
They're gone - it's all over here

Blood and water bound to overflow
Blood and water bound to overflow
Well there's no more high water
No more high water
There's no more high water
But the Old Man's just waiting, I know

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bluebird
from 'privateering'
Got crows in my pasture
Rats in my barn
Crows in my pasture, babe
Rats in my barn
If I was you, little bluebird
I'd up and find another farm

I've got nightshade in my meadow
Ragweed in my corn
Nightshade in my meadow
And ragweed in my corn
If I was you, little bluebird
I'd be long gone

Yes, I got squirrels in my rafters
Weevils in my hay
Squirrels in my rafters
Weevils in my hay
If I was you, little bluebird
I'd up and fly away
Fly away, baby

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boom like that
from 'shangri-la'
I'm going to San Bernardino
Ring-a-ding-ding
Milkshake mixers
Thats my thing, now
These guys bought
A heap of my stuff
And I gotta see a good thing
Sure enough, now
Or my name's not kroc
That's kroc with a 'k'
Like 'crocodile'
But not spelled that way, yeah
It's dog eat dog
Rat eat rat
Kroc-style
Boom, like that

The folks line up
All down the street
And I’m seeing this girl
Devour her meat, now
And then I get it, wham
As clear as day
My pulse begins to hammer
And I hear a voice say:
These boys have
Got this down
Oughtta be a one of these
In every town
These boys have
Got the touch
It’s clean as a whistle
And it don’t cost much
Wham, bam
You don’t wait long
Shake, fries
Patty, you’re gone
And how about that
Friendly name?
Heck, every little thing
Oughtta stay the same
Or my name’s not kroc
That’s kroc with a ’k’
Like ’crocodile’
But not spelt that way, now
It’s dog eat dog
Rat eat rat
Kroc-style
Boom, like that

You gentlemen
Ought to expand
You’re going to need
A helping hand, now
So, gentlemen
Well, what about me?
We’ll make a little
Business history, now
Or my name’s not kroc
Call me ray
Like ’crocodile’
But not spelt that way, now
It’s dog eat dog
Rat eat rat
Kroc-style
Boom, like that

Well we build it up
And I buy ’em out
But, man they made me
Grind it out, now
They open up a new place
Flipping meat
So I do, too
Right across the street
I got the name
I need the town
They sell up in the end
And it all shuts down
Sometimes you gotta
Be an s.o.b.
You wanna make a dream
Reality
Competition?
Send ’em south
If they’re gonna drown
Put a hose in their mouth
Do not pass ’go’
Go straight to hell
I smell that
Meat hook smell
Or my name’s not kroc
That’s kroc with a ’k’
Like ’crocodile’
But not spelt that way, now
It’s dog eat dog
Rat eat rat
Kroc-style
Boom, like that

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border reiver
from 'get lucky'
Southern bound from Glasgow town
she’s shining in the sun
my Scotstoun lassie
on a border run
We’re whistling down the hillsides
and tearing up the climbs
I’m just a thiever stealing time
in the Border Reiver

Three hundred thousand on the clock
and plenty more to go
Crash box and lever
- she needs the heel and toe
She’s not too cold in winter
but she cooks me in the heat
I’m a six-foot driver but you can’t adjust the seat
in the Border Reiver

‘Sure as the Sunrise’
that’s what they say about the Albion
‘Sure as the Sunrise’ ,that’s what they say
about the Albion and she’s an Albion
She’s an Albion

The Ministry don’t worry me
my paperwork’s alright
They can’t touch me
I got my sleep last night
It’s knocking out a living wage
in 1969
I’m just a thiever stealing time
in the Border Reiver
‘Sure as the Sunrise’
that’s what they say about the Albion
‘Sure as the Sunrise’, that’s what they say
about the Albion and she’s an Albion
She’s an Albion

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the boy
from 'the boy'
Sandwich in my pocket
Topcoat buttoned tight
Still thirty miles to pedal
On these empty roads at night
But the moon’s a giant lantern
There’s no need for a light
I’ll be home in good time In the morning

The Boy turned pro so early
Went down London way
I’ll pay a visit now and then
Make sure he’s okay
We don’t do too much talking
We look forward anyway
Sometimes we’ll just talk
About the same old

Who knows where the world is going
Nobody does
But all the same
We could never change
We could never change
Because he’s all we’ve got
No more or less
The Boy, God bless
He’s just The Boy

There’s no sign he’ll pack it in
Says why should he stop
He makes more money in that gym
Than in any blacksmith’s shop

He seems to like the glamour
The crowds and city lights
He likes the cash, he likes the flash
And fuss around the fights
Will he know when it’s all over
Will he still be sharp and bright
Still be working
Still be on a payroll?

Who knows where the world is going
Nobody does
But all the same
We could never change
We could never change
Because he’s all we’ve got
No more or less
And he’s The Boy,
God bless
He’s just The Boy
The Boy, God bless
He’s just The Boy

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broken bones
from 'tracker'
She likes a man with a broken nose
Lucky for me, I suppose
Shots coming in like the monthly bills
Soon they’ll be saying I’m over the hill

Well the bell goes clang and you’re on your own
You take your medicine and go home
You take it like a man, on the chin
And you don’t make a fuss when the towel comes in

Now let me go home, got to lay in ice
And I don’t want to hear no more advice
Just give me my clothes
Get me out of this place
How many more stitches in my face?

Those broken bones, you pick ’em up and carry ’em
Broken bones, you carry ’em home
Broken bones, you pick ’em up and carry ’em
Broken bones, you carry ’em home

He had the punch lines, I was the joke
Every shot felt like something broke
It was all much more than a man should stand
And I finally went down to a big right hand

Now let me go home, got to lay in ice
And I don’t want to hear no more advice
Just give me my clothes
Get me out of this place
How many more stitches in my face?

Those broken bones, you pick ’em up and carry ’em
Broken bones, you carry ’em home
Broken bones, you pick ’em up and carry ’em
Broken bones, you carry ’em home

Broken bones, you pick ’em up and carry ’em
Broken bones, you carry ’em home
Broken bones, you pick ’em up and carry ’em
Broken bones, you carry ’em home

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 © thomas gygax. no unauthorised reproduction.