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All songs © Richard Shepherd 2008
BJ Cole: Pedal Steel on 9 and 12
Richard Shepherd
1 Dark Within the Door MP3
2 Berkhamsted Sunday Morning MP3
3 Baby is a Watchmaker MP3
4 Stars on 45 MP3
5 Camden in the Rain MP3
6 Tall Trees MP3
7 Blood on the Vine MP3
8 Paintbox Dusty Blues MP3
9 Stolen Tambourine MP3
10 Cod Country MP3
11 Extinct Bird MP3
12 No One Knows What Love Is MP3
Heh undertaker don’t nail my coffin down
I’ve got to meet a man on the other side of town
He’s dressed in black his guitar slung low
The drummer shakes his sticks
The band are raring to go
‘Coz I like a bit of rhythm along with my blues
I’m a wanted man
I’ve got something to lose
Don’t want no sunshine
No ham and eggs
You take the beer
Just leave me the dregs
No baubles, no bangles, no spangles or beads
You can keep the flowers
If you leave me the seeds
‘Coz I ain’t got time for the carnival lights
You keep the day
Just leave me the night
You take the Spring
I’ll have the Fall
Your big yellow sun
Don’t mean nothing at all
You can run with the trade winds
From the top of your mast
I’ll lay me in the briar
With an icy blast
‘Coz this fool and his money
Are a thing of the past
The gun’s already loaded
And the spell is cast
You can dazzle with your day-glo
Lay down the law
You take the mezzanine
I’ll sleep on the floor
The starlight’s yours
And the waves on the shore
I’ll take the moon
That leaves me
Dark within the door
Berkhamsted Sunday Morning
It was a Berkhamsted Sunday morning
Nothing glamorous about that
Especially in the early 1980s
It was a Berkhamsted Sunday morning
Some early birds out walking the dogs
There was someone washing a company car
Someone chopping logs
We stopped at the end of the lane and
Watched the gypsy boys breaking cars
We were just losing our hearts and minds
But we didn’t know it
Now there’s a four-lane bypass
Across the fields where we used to play
Stumble towards eternity
Mess around self-medicate
Some might call it progress
But I just call it a shame
When it’s gone it’s gone forever
You can’t go back again
Hindsight is never enough
But hindsight’s all that lasts
The future comes so quickly
When you see it it’s already past
Well if I had my time again
I’d probably do it the same
Though I might have said: “You’re alright, mate”
But I probably wouldn’t
‘Coz it’s a Berkhamsted Sunday morning
Some early birds out walking the dogs
There was someone washing a company car
Someone chopping logs
Baby is a Watchmaker
My baby is a watchmaker she ain’t got no time for me
My baby is a watchmaker she ain’t got no time for me
When I come up to town
She goes off to the country
My baby is a watchmaker she ain’t got no time for me
She’s a qualified chronometrist but she ain’t got no time for me
While she’s out painting the harbour
I’m fishing on the deep blue sea
My baby is a watchmaker tick tock
My baby is a watchmaker tick tock
My baby is a watchmaker tick tock
My baby is a watchmaker tick tock
My baby is a watchmaker but
She ain’t got no time for me
My baby is a watchmaker she ain’t got no time for me
My baby is a watchmaker she ain’t got no time for me
She’s moving up to summertime
I’m stuck on GMT
My baby got restless thought she’d turn her hand to crime
My baby was the culprit but guess whose doing the time
Now she’s got bucket loads of money
But she can’t spare me a dime
My baby is a watchmaker tick tock
My baby is a watchmaker tick tock
My baby is a watchmaker tick tock
I think I’ll take a walk around the block
Stars on 45
STARS on forty-five
The future's not so scary
Calls charged 75p a minute
Mobile charges vary
Your hair will regain its hue
Your step it’s swing
You’ll no longer be depressed
Financial worries addressed
You won't get angry with
Inflated prices Pavement cyclists
Or snagged cling film
With Venus in ascendant
You can throw away your specs
Have better sex
With Venus in ascendant
You can get drunk without being sick
Walk without a stick
Your boxers will all be cotton-rich
You’ll be a magician
A perfect gentleman
Have a house full of children
Be consulted on affairs of state
Drive a train
The universe will fall into line
But ring me about the influence of a comet
If the traffic ever pauses you can sometimes hear a roar
Though no tube trains have stopped here since 1924
They say a poet laureate's still down there
With bats camped in his mouth
Wondering who left the lights on at Kentish Town South
I know there's places worse but I sometimes search in vain
Coz today there's nowhere sadder than Camden in the rain
The ghost station's a pawn shop and it's full of air guitars
Old journeys never taken every station to the stars
Down below's a massage parlour if you'd care to pay a call
The sign says Omega that's Greek for sweet fuck all
I saw Bob Dylan in the high street outside Ryman's
I bought some boots of Spanish leather that I never wore
I saw Kid Caruso being busted under the canal bridge
Wondering what they picked on him for
I know there's places worse but I sometimes search in vain
Coz' there's really nowhere sadder than Camden in the rain
I went to see a psychic professor
To make me a winner in life
But she'd been bought out by an anger management consultancy
She wasn't even cross
But I guess she saw it coming
Your crystals are all cloudy
And your pizza's packed by punks
And does anyone really need
Their soap in cheesy chunks
In five year's time there'll be no pills popping
You'll all be at Bluewater joined-up-shopping
I'll still be here chasing the ghosts of dead poets down the Regent's canal raging against the platform lights going down on the last dimwit battle of South Kentish Town
I know there's places worse but I sometimes search in vain
Coz' there's really nowhere sadder than Camden in the rain
I know there's places worse but none gives me more pain
Than a sliding Indian summer and Camden in the rain
Tall Trees
She put her pretty new dress on
And took the hook that it hung on
And stumbled out into the rain
Stumbled out into the rain
She hung the hook from the highest tree
She hung the dress up on the hook
She said I’d rather read a book
I’d so much rather read a book
When they saw what she had done
They took their clothes off one by one
And slung them in to the tallest trees
They just hung there in the breeze
Blood on the Vine
She won't be skirling golden sails
Riding the waves like wind
Snorted up a tenner
Or mounted on a pin
She'll come when she's ready
But I think you should be fine
The grape's are never sweet
'Til there's blood on the vine
Blood on the vine, blood on the vine
The grape's are never sweet 'til there's blood on the vine
She'll want you like Spring
Guard you like Time
She'll love you and leave you and never know why
She'll sing when she's ready
And frown when she’s fine
The grape's are never sweet
'Til there's blood on the vine
Blood on the vine, blood on the vine
The grape's never sweet 'til there's blood on the vine
Paint Box Dusty Blues
Got an old paint box with dust on it
A radiator with socks on it
I’m gonna paint the socks with the dust
And wear the brushes on my feet
Because I’ve been down and got back up
I’ve been up and gone back down
But baby when you’ve finished painting up the town
You can get your ups on the Downs
I’m gonna ride that bus with an open top
Out across the fields we ain’t gonna stop
I’m gonna set my step against the wind
Take adversity on the chin
Because I’ve been down and got back up
I’ve been up and gone back down
But baby when you’ve finished painting up the town
You can get your ups on the Downs
Stolen Tambourine
As Jack was walking from his mother’s late last night
He thought he heard the tramp of a thousand marching feet
He guessed he might be drunk but it was just as it seemed
He’d been struck on the head with a stolen tambourine
He saw stars at the foot of the mountain
He saw blood running on to the snow
He tried to plead with his tormentors
But they didn’t seem to want to know
A driver pulled up in a twenty-year-old snot-green Audi
Attracted by the gleam of the shiny broken disks
But when she saw that they were not legal tender
She dropped them like hot coals and got back in the car
Leaving stars at the foot of the mountain
Blood running on to the snow
And Jack minus three and getting colder
Listening to revival radio
Cod Country
I spent a lot of time on the Banks of Newfoundland
I spent a lot of time on the Banks of Newfoundland
I guess cod country is the only kind I understand
The sun is setting and the fish are jumping in the net
The sun is setting and the fish are jumping in the net
I’m not going to stop because I haven’t met my quota yet
Cod country yeah I wrote the book
Cod country won’t let me off the hook
Cod country will be the death of me
Why did nobody tell me about the unsustainability
Sometimes I feel like an extinct bird
Caught under a billion tons of shellfish dust
My song is silenced
My feathers furred
Could it be I've become an extinct bird
Extinct bird flying on a wind of memories
Extinct bird floating on an aimless tide
Extinct bird I think I know what your problem is
You're fighting being an extinct bird
[You can't get used to being an extinct bird]
[You’re frightened of being an extinct bird]
And it makes me weary
It’s so dreary
Being a small part
Of somebody's theory
Washed up on a landlocked beach
Powered flight seems forever out of reach
Strangled words too soft to be heard
Could it be I've become an extinct bird
No one knows what love is
The smell of the drain the rattle of the train
Warm summer rain
Won’t bring my baby back
A broke remote control
A burnt profiterole
Diamonds studs and coal
Won’t bring my baby back
No one knows what love is ‘till they’re dead
No one knows what love is ‘till they’re dead
No one knows what love is ‘till they’re dead
At least I think that’s what she said
No one knows what love is
No one knows what love is
No one knows what love is ‘till they’re dead