"Honour thy mistake as a hidden intention" — Brian Eno.

THE EVOLVING HYMN

Oh God, He so comprehensive. He see every sparrow what fall. 'There go another sparrow', He say, 'or war it a thrush? It's hard to tell from up here'. He very well meaning, He on everyone side (but reluctantly plump for the winner-take-all approach).

'Oh Natural Selection
Oh Natural Selection
Oh Natural Selection
Evolve A. While With Me'
We can drink our politics away, starting in the middle of the day we can drink our politics away.




"What we feel we have to solve is why the dregs have not dissolved" — Peter Blegvad.


SIGNED CURTAIN

This is the first verse, this is the first verse, this is the first verse, this is the first verse, this is the first verse, this is the first verse and this is the chorus, or perhaps it's a bridge or just another part of the song that I'm singing.
This is the second verse, it could be the last verse, this is the second verse, it could be the last verse, this is the second verse, it's probably the last one; and this is the chorus, or perhaps it's a bridge or just another key change.
Never mind, it doesn't hurt, it only means that I've lost faith in this song, 'cause it won't help me reach you.

"... He passed on to the Statue of Corrupted Endeavour to await the arrival of Autumn" — Edward Gorey.


GLORIA GLOOM

Like so many of you, I've got my doubts about how much to contribute to the already rich among us. How long can I pretend that music's more relevant than fighting for a socialist world?

In the garden of England, dead moles lie inside their holes

Someone watching us knows I'm bad. Black plastic along blue black wall, small square (for faces) where dead men can look through. Run along and see the prison bath; throw a stone along an empty road; you and your friend will be found.
Outside the daydream I've woken up to watch you sleep.


SEA SONG

You look different every time you come from the foam created brine (it's) your skin, shining softly in the moonlight. Partly fish, partly porpoise, partly baby sperm whale, am I yours, are you mine to play with? Joking apart, when you're drunk you're terrific when you're drunk, I like you mostly late at night — you're quite all right. But I can't understand the different you in the morning, when it's time to play at being human for a while. Please smile!
You'll be different in the Spring, I know you're a seasonal beast like the starfish that drift in with the tide, with the tide. So until your blood runs to meet the next full moon, your madness fits in nicely with my own, with my own, your lunacy fits neatly with my own, my very own. We're not alone.

"Don't go madam ... we get better" — Ronnie Scott.


LAST STRAW

Seaweed tangled in our home from home reminds me of your rocky bottom. Please don't wait for the paperweight; err on the good side, touch us when we collapse.
Into the water we'll go head over heel; we'll not grow fat inside the mammary gland. Into the water we'll go head over heel; a head buried behind me deep in the sand.

' I like that Daddy, it doesn't make me boring" — Chloe Mason.


LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD HITS THE ROAD

Orlandon't tell me oh no! Don't say, oh God don't tell me ... or dear me, heavens above, oh no, no, I can't stand it ... stop, please, oh deary me, what in heaven's name . . . ? Oh blimey, mercy me, woe are we, oh dear . . . oh stop it .". . stop it ...
You've been so kind I know, I know, so why did I hurt you? I didn't mean to hurt you. But I'll keep trying and I'm sure you will too.

"I have to go now because I have to climb a mountain" — Hugh Hopper.


TEAM SPIRIT

Kick me Hardy; without one sweet push from your shine covered boot I don't think, I just know I'll be grounded for ever more; over turn me, you can hardly miss me, I'm the one face down in the mud on the ground. I'll be stuck here forever unless you come over and kick me Hardy. I'm the best football you have got, I beat the lot, I'll take the cake. Be masterful, be my hero and believe me Hardy,
if it's tough you want then it's tough you've got. I mean, if this is only a question of toughness, survive me Hardy or deflate me straight away. Beating the shit out of me takes the hell out of you. If I'm nothing without you then why stick it out? You can pass me over, but I'm the only chance you've got. If you asked me, here's my advice: use me to go hell for leather and back.
Kick me Handy; without one push from your shine covered boot I don't think, I just know I'll be grounded for ever more; over turn me, you should just be thankful (that) when it comes to the crunch I'm the best of the bunch. At the end of the day you could easily say that I come in handy. I'm the best football you have got, I beat the lot, I'll take the cake. Be masterful, be my hero and be grateful Handy.

"Loneliness is a gift from heaven" — James Thurber.

Into the water we'll go, head over heel

LITTLE RED ROBIN HOOD HITS THE ROAD

In the garden of England, dead moles lie inside their holes; the dead end tunnels crumble in the rain underfoot (innit a shame?). Can't you see them? Can't you see them? Roots can't hold them, bugs console them.
I fight with the handle of my little brown broom, I pull out the wires of the telephone, I hurt in the head and I hurt in the aching bone. Now I smash up the telly with remains of the telephone, I fighting for the crust of the little brown loaf — I want it, I want it, I want it ... give it to me. I give it you back when I finish the lunchtea.
I lie in the road, try to trip up the passing cars; yes, me and the hedgehog we bursting the tyres all day. As we roll down the highway towards the setting sun I reflect on the life of the highwayman yum yum.
Now I smash up the telly and what's left of the broken phone.

"... you and I, we could give up our jobs and go, we could leave all our commitments here, if we wanted to. I think. Well. I think we could. I think we could . . . well, maybe." — Fred Frith.


MUDDY MOUTH

Relatively used to coping with the darkness underground, Cub and Brownie blink as they emerge. Overhead the stars are piercing, glaring on their new home — wasted jungle, crowded with dead trees. What do cubs and brownies do at night after a boring day? Shine their boots and practice tying knots? No of course not! After school they play hide and seek, chase each other, clutching in the dark.
What do Ann and Handy do after a long, exhausting shift? Clean the spades and clear away the dirt? No of course not! Usually they lie down in the mud close together, just to save on heat.
Work is split up, but it gets harder every day, it's never done. Call it peaceful. Call it grinding the time away. Say that ditches aren't homely. Call it boredom. Either way Ann decides to potter off. How's that for brains?
Deep in the undergrows, Handy sighed with relief. He'd come alone in the dark — he'd come again at dawn, if not before the morning cockrise. Meanwhile in the bushes above, behind the toepath which goes along beside the canal leading to the sea, which in turn leads on to all the major oceans — Indian, Atlantic, Pacific, I can't remember the names of the others off-Handy cided to leave. He'd come apart at the seam — endangered life and lawn order before, the more since he lies (even under oaf Handy lies) when he feels caught between righand wrong. I think he might have been wrong this time, which in turn left him with few alternatives to relieving himself by hand, alone in the dark, wanking in the bog.


"What a cunt he turned out to be" — Laurie Allan.

How long can I put it ?

STRUBBLIN' STRIFE

Strubblin' strife, strubblin' strife, Ola Ya Ya Mama, Ola Ya Ya Mama. Me been a senstibule, considulate, fabaloofly greeny, often a parsley. Me Goota Goota, not say 'Freg' — No! No! No! Not sing him 'Freg'. Oh my Goddy Goddy, Deary little God-God.
Hoooooooooooooooooooooooo nabbin my winksey?
Who heeeeeeeeeeeeee da breake ma pamerararm?
Crackle Crackle.
De Bay-con. De Sossinks.
Gone astray, gone astray. If you Goddy light I gone astray. De road turn blue, de road turn green, where my cow gone, where she been? De house turn black, de house bend and break, de house squash my Unhappamily. O no! Oh No! My Unhappamily.
Oh God, He so comprehensive, He see every sparrow what fall. 'There go another sparrow', He say, 'or war it a thrush? It's hard to tell from up here'. He very well meaning, He on everyone side (but reluctantly plump for the winner-take-all approach).

'Oh Natural Selection
Oh Natural Selection
Oh Natural Selection
Evolve A While With Me' "I'll smoke to that" — Brian Case.

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ALL SONGS by Robert Wyatt. 'Signed Curtain' is from the album 'Matching Mole'; 'We Can Drink Our Politics Away' and 'Gloria Gloom' from 'Matching Mole's Little Red Record'; all published by Soft Machine Publishing Company/MCPS. 'Sea Song,' 'Last Straw,' 'Little Red Riding Hood Hits The Road' and 'Little Red Robin Hood Hits The Road' are from 'Rock Bottom'; 'Team Spirit'and 'Muddy Mouth'are from 'Ruth Is Tranger Than Richard'; all published by Virgin Music (Publishers) Ltd. 'Stubblin' Strife' and 'The Evolving Hymn' are new songs, as yet unrecorded. They will be published by Virgin Music (Publishing) Ltd.