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Ruth Is Stranger than Richard
1975
Robert Wyatt
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| SOUP SONG |
Hugh Hopper / Robert Wyatt |
There's a mushroom on my eyelid,
there's a carrot down my back,
I can see in the distance, a vast quantity of beans.
To you I'm just a flavour to make your soup taste nice.
Oh my God! Here come the onions and, I don't believe it,
at least a pound of rice.
There was a time when bacon sandwiches
were everyone's favourite snack.
I'm delicious when I'm crunchy, even when I'm almost black.
So why you make a soup with me
I just can't understand.
It seems so bloody tasteless,
not to mention underhand.
Now there's no hope of getting out of here,
I can feel I'm going soft.
Dirty waters soak my fibres,
the whole saucepan's getting hot.
So I may as well resign myself,
make friends with a few peas,
but I just can't help hoping
a tummy ache will bring you to your knees.
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Illustration : Alfreda Benge |
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| TEAM SPIRIT |
Bill MacCormick/ Phil Manzanera / Robert Wyatt |
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'll beat the lot. I'll take the cake.
Be masterful, be my hero and be
-lieve 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 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 sweet push from your shine covered boot,
I don't think, I just know I'll be grounded for ever
more over turn me. Ttbu should just be thankful,
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 take the cake.
Be masterful, be my hero and be
grateful 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 Handy, or deflate me pronto.
Beating 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.
If you asked me, here's my advice.
Use me to go hell for leather and back.
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Illustration : Alfreda Benge |
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MUDDY MOUSE (a)
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Fred Frith / Robert Wyatt |
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.
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Illustration : Alfreda Benge |
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| MUDDY MOUSE (b) |
Fred Frith / Robert Wyatt |
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.
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Illustration : Alfreda Benge |
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MUDDY MOUSE (c) |
Fred Frith / Robert Wyatt |
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.
(simultaneously)
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?
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Illustration : Alfreda Benge |
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MUDDY MOUTH |
Fred Frith / Robert Wyatt |
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 die 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 righthand wrong.
I think he just might have been wrong this time,
which in turn left him with few alternatives to
relieving himself by hand alone in the dark.
Hiding in the bog.
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