Your tears are much heavier these days I’ve seen them coming in like waves From the ocean, I’ve seen them coming From the ocean, I’ve seen them growing And moving with the water
The rocking is getting more severe They’ll sail with you anywhere We will make it A little further Don’t you worry We’re almost there
You and me Oh we’ll be Here always here You and me
Your tears are much heavier these days I’ve seen them coming in like waves From the ocean, I’ve seen them coming From the ocean, I’ve seen them growing And moving with the water And moving with the water
You and me Oh we’ll be Here always here You and me Oh we’ll be Here always here You and me Oh we’ll be here
Sung at the memorial for the families of the victims of the July 22nd massacre in Norway last year.
The late, very great and much lamented Jake Thackray with his Last Will and Testament. By the way, isn’t You Tube a marvel? This version is awfully close to the black and white On the Braden Beat Saturday night image that flickers in my memory. Astonishing to find it preserved here:
I, the under-mentioned, by this document
Do declare my true intentions, my last will, my testament.
When I turn up my toes, when I rattle my clack, when I agonise,
I want no great wet weepings, no tearing of hair, no wringing of hands,
No sighs, no lack-a-days, no woe-is-me’s and none of your sad adieus.
Go, go, go and get the priest and then go get the booze, boys.
Death, where is thy victory? Grave, where is thy sting?
When I snuff it bury me quickly, then let carousels begin –
But not a do with a few ham sandwiches, a sausage roll or two and “A small port wine, please”.
Roll the carpet right back, get cracking with your old Gay Gordons
And your knees up, shake it up, live it up, sup it up, hell of a kind of a time.
And if the coppers come around, well, tell them the party’s mine, boys.
Let best beef be eaten, fill every empty glass,
Let no breast be beaten, let no tooth be gnashed.
Don’t bother with a fancy tombstone or a big-deal angel or a little copper flower pot:
Grow a dog-rose in my eyes or a pussy-willow
But no forget-me-nots, no epitaphs, no keepsakes; you can let my memory slip.
You can say a prayer or two for me soul then, but – make it quick, boys.
Lady, if your bosom is heaving don’t waste your bosom on me.
Let it heave for a man who’s breathing, a man who can feel, a man who can see.
And to my cronies: you can read my books, you can drive around in my motor car.
And you can fish your trout with my fly and tackle, you can play on my guitar,
And sing my songs, wear my shirts. You can even settle my debts.
You can kiss my little missus if she’s willing then, but – no regrets, boys.
Your rosebuds are numbered;
Gather them now for rosebuds’ sake.
And if your hands aren’t too encumbered
Gather a bud or two for Jake.
If you want to find out more about Jake, there’s lots here.
(spoken:)
Man…
You know I’ve been enjoyin’ things that kings and queens will never have!
In fact kings and queens can never get ‘m.
And they don’t even know about it!
And good times? Mmmmmmmmm-mmh!!
(sung:)
I have had my fun, if I never get well no more (x 2)
Oh my health is fadin’ on me, oh yes I’m goin’ down slow
(spoken:)
Now looka here…
I did not say I was a millionaire…
But I said I have spent more money than a millionaire!
Cause if I had kept all my money that I’d already spent,
I would’ve been a millionaire a looong time ago…
And women? Great Googlie-Mooglie!!
(sung:)
Please write my mother, tell her the shape I’m in (x 2)
Tell her to pray for me, forgive me for my sin
Hey now, little speedyhead, The read on the speedometer says You have to go to task in the city Where people drown and people serve Don’t be shy. Your just dessert Is only just light years to go
Me, my thoughts are flower strewn Ocean storm, bayberry moon I have got to leave to find my way Watch the road and memorize This life that passed before my eyes Nothing is going my way
The ocean is the river’s goal, A need to leave the water knows We’re closer now than light years to go
I have got to find the river, Bergamot and vetiver Run through my head and fall away Leave the road and memorize This life that passed before my eyes Nothing is going my way
There’s no one left to take the lead, But I tell you and you can see We’re closer now than light years to go Pick up here and chase the ride The river empties to the tide Fall into the ocean
The river to the ocean goes, A fortune for the undertow None of this is going my way There is nothing left to throw Of ginger, lemon, indigo, Coriander stem and rows of hay Strength and courage overrides The privileged and weary eyes Of river poet search naivete Pick up here and chase the ride The river empties to the tide All of this is coming your way
“I chose the start of the overture from The Mikado as the music for my Dad’s funeral…..it was that, or his other favourite, Doris Day, but my Mum pointed out that everyone would think we were outing him, so G&S it was…”Source
A week or so ago one of my heroines died – the musician, writer and singer Dory Previn.
She hasn’t recorded much, but for those who know her work she is unmatched in her musicality, wit, dark humour and willingness to explore the darker parts of the mind and a woman’s experience of the world.
My favorite album was Reflections in Mud Puddle. If I haven’t put you off, you can find it here.
In the meantime enjoy The New Enzyme Detergent Demise of Ali McGraw. Come on folks you must remember Love Story?
Mine was a Wednesday death, One afternoon at approximately three-fifteen, I gave up and died and nobody cried.
Mine was a bloodless death, Not grim, not gory, More like Ali Macgraw’s new enzyme detergent demise,
In Love Story. Neat and tidy,
Unlike Christ’s on Friday.
Friends were fooled by the fact, I still breathed, and I spoke, and I smiled, and I lied, In my handy, dandy, imitation life disguise kit. I sent away for it.
The styrofoam face fits so neatly in place, With the pre-recorded voice of your choice, And it almost sounds real – it’s a guaranteed deal And you don’t feel a thing, And you can teach it to sing, And all your friends are deceived, And nobody grieves.
Mine was a Wednesday death. One afternoon at approximately three-fifteen, I was quietly laid to rest, And nobody guessed.
A handy disposable heart, Marks time in a plastic breast, And so it goes, and nobody knows, I am non bio-degradable.
The lovely Mr Cowling and his little friend Vale have kindly invited me to contribute to the splendid GFG. As a lady of a certain age, I have attended more than my fair share of funerals, becoming something of a connoisseur.
I have also attended more than my fair share of dreadful funerals. On one occasion we were regaled with threats of hell and damnation by an intense and possibly psychopathic lady vicar. She clearly warmed to her theme as she saw our horrified faces. We were her ideal audience – unable to escape.
The humanists are only slightly better – why do they have to mention religion so much? Yes, we get it – you can have a funeral without God. And yes, you mean no disrespect to those of a religious faith. Get a grip for heaven’s sake! We’re not going to fall apart because you’re unable to wax lyrical about Life Everlasting. However, I do miss a good hymn. As long as it’s not All Things Bright & Beautiful! Unless the organist is playing it in the key of C, at my age I have no hope of reaching the top notes. But even that is better than Wind Beneath My Wings. Does no-one listen to the lyrics?
Anyway, it got me thinking. What if my children chose something like that for my funeral. Plan ahead – that’s the key. So whilst we were tucking into our crispy duck in restaurant in China Town, I tentatively raised the subject of my demise. It went something like this:
Me: Well we don’t often get the chance to talk like this. I just wanted…
Son: (fingers in ears) Not listening. Not listening.
Me: I’ll write it all down then.
Daughter: Fine – but it’s not legally binding you know.
Son: (starting to chuckle) Yeah, but don’t worry – we’ve got lots of ideas.
Later that evening we saw Bill Bailey’s Work In Progress and everyone howled with laughter when he sang the first few notes of “I Will Always Love You…”
Now that’s another song I don’t want at my funeral. Does no-one listen to the lyrics?
Ed’s note: the first two lines are: ‘If I should stay, / I would only be in your way.’ A very good point you make, Ms Mollington.
Rows of houses, all bearing down on me
I can feel their blue hands touching me
All these things into position
All these things we’ll one day swallow whole
And fade out again and fade out
This machine will, will not communicate
These thoughts and the strain I am under
Be a world child, form a circle
Before we all go under
And fade out again and fade out again
Cracked eggs, dead birds
Scream as they fight for life
I can feel death, can see its beady eyes
All these things into position
All these things we’ll one day swallow whole
And fade out again and fade out again
Immerse your soul in love
IMMERSE YOUR SOUL IN LOVE
Nobody knows how long
Rustling leaves unrhyme
Lullaby breeze unsung
Babel of dreams
unwinds in memory
As bad as bad becomes
It’s not a part of you
And love is only sleeping
Wrapped in neglect
Time it’s time to live,
Time it’s time to live through the pain
Time it’s time to live
now that it’s all over
Time it’s time to live,
Time it’s time to live through the pain
now that it’s over,
now that it’s over
Kissing a grey garden
Shadow & shade
Sunlight treads softly
As bad as bad becomes
It’s not a part of you
Contempt is ever breeding
Trapped in itself
Time it’s time to live,
Time it’s time to live through the pain
Time it’s time to live
now that it’s all over
Time it’s time to live,
Time it’s time to live through the pain
now that it’s over,
now that it’s over,
now that it’s over
(Instrumental)
As bad as bad becomes
It’s not a part of you
The wicked and the weeping
Ramble or run
Time it’s time to live,
Time it’s time to live for living
Time it’s time to live
Now that it’s all over
Time it’s time to live,
Time it’s time to live for living
Time it’s time to live
Now that it’s all over
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