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1. |
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"There's Always Tomorrow?"
They keep telling me "there's always tomorrow"
but one day there won't be
So I'm making the most of what I've got
while my time is free.
I feel life is more a case of regret
than one of sorrow
they tell me "forget the past there's always tomorrow"
If I could I'm sure another life I'd borrow
So forget your cliche that there's alway tomorrow
I know I'm off beat and always ploughed my own furrow
My advice is do it now, there's not always tomorrow.
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2. |
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Winkles and Whelks and Prawns
Most tea times of a boring Sunday
Dad would turn to Mum and say
“How about some seafood for tea?”
And Mum used to mutter “That’s OK with me!”
So he’d jump in the Vauxhall post blinking’ haste
Without much ado and with no time to waste
And purchase some winkles, whelks and prawns
From the seafood stall in the car park of the Swan
We’d sit around with the winkles and poke ‘em with a pin
And shovel all these scrumptious morsels in
Mum hated them whelks and exclaimed “Shove them in the bin!”
She’d rather have John West’s salmon from the tin
I haven’t had such simple fare in oh for quite a long while
I look back with nostalgia and crack my face with a smile
I still crave winkles, whelks and prawns
But the seafood stall has vanished from the car park of the Swan.
Chorus
“Winkles, whelks and prawns
Get ‘em in a pint or a or possibly a half
Wash ‘em down with a bottle of brown
And have yourself a giggle, son, have yourself a laugh”
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3. |
Jaywick(Harris)
04:37
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4. |
My Old Mum(Harris)
03:32
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5. |
Easy Street(Harris)
02:39
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6. |
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The Shed Song
I saw a herd of old geezers standing round
Watching a digger levelling the ground
Each of these oldies had a tear in their eye
So I turned to the nearest sad old bloke
And said ‘Oi son, I ain’t making a joke
But why are you grown men all having a cry?”
He turned to me with a lugubrious stare
A look I’d recognise anywhere
He muttered a heart felt chilling refrain
It was a terrible sentence no man should hear
A sentence consisting of hurt and fear
An expression of indescribable pain
“It wasn’t a knocking shop or some gentleman’s club
That hole in the ground was our local pub”
I was stunned but took in what the old git said
And my musings turned to my garden shed
Slowly a idea crept into my head
So here we sit me and my new mates
Cursing bulldozers and the fates
We gather now in my garden shed bragging
Another place safe from the missus’s nagging
“It isn’t a knocking shop or some gentleman’s club
That shed in the garden is our local pub”
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7. |
Skool Daze(Harris)
03:33
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8. |
Mother's Ruin(New)
07:52
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9. |
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"Grandad Harry"
Grandad’s in the kharzi
He needs to be alone
Making bets with the bookie
On the telephone
The Racing Post open
Resting on his knee
Till Granny yells out
“ ‘Arry come on down for tea”
Wearily he sighs
And pulls the kharzi chain
Chucks his fag after
It disappears down the drain
Sitting at the table
He lets his trousers out
Munching on his fish and chips
He guzzles his glass of stout
Grandad’s in the garden
Swearing at the weeds
Slouches to the greenhouse to
Plant his chrysanthe seeds
Listening to the wireless
Gardeners Question Time
Dips his hands in the watering can
To wash off all the grime
The pigeon loft now empty
He no longer has the oomph
To raise and feed and doctor them
the rain collapsed the roof
The grandkids will be coming
they’ll drag him up the park
He'll bring them home to their mother
Before it gets too dark
‘Arry is a grandad
He’s learning everyday
A job he does for love
And never mind the pay
For a grandad is a geezer
Who’s older than your dad
He must have known your father
when he was just a lad
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10. |
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The Moon in a Puddle(Lyrics Harris)
(Chorus)
There’s a moon in a puddle
half way down our street
I’ll hold your jacket
If you jump in with both feet
They knocked down all the houses
and moved us to a block
We don’t keep coal in the bathtub
That must be a shock
They levelled all the houses
And piled us in a stack
But give me a fiver
I'd go living In a shack
Our `”street in the sky”
Is unfriendly, barren and cold
The kids don’t play here
We never see the old
The graffiti says “God help us”
But no one’s seen that god
And no one’s seen a copper
Like good old P.C. Plod
Walking on the moon
That was a special treat
Splashing in a puddle
In the middle of our street
Once there was a street,
a puddle and a moon
That little miracle
Will not come back very soon
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Brian Harris London, UK
I died in the Punk Wars you know ...guts hanging out on the barbed wire in the women's loo down the Roxy.
Recently described
as 'the West London Chris Difford', I still don't understand what that means-I'm the West London 'Me'!
Osmucon (Osaka Music Concern) is the label.
Snailpace Publishing
... more
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