1. |
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“Rónan agus Áine”, cá bhfuil tú
Ronan and Aine, where are you?
You non-Irish wouldn’t understand
But we’ll bring our desperate messages to you
Like only a deflated population can
With the weight of Peig Sayers bearing down upon you
Like some ogling, bewhiskered whore
As we uniformed in threes and fours
And Ger Noone had his head shoved in the bed
Ger Noone had his head shoved in the bed
Ger Noone had his head shoved in the bed
He wouldn’t take a shower, they said
“Rónan agus Áine”, cá bhfuil tú
Ronan and Aine, where are you?
You young bucks, you hairy teenyboppers
You wouldn’t know your whippers from your snappers
Come back to me when your blue eyes have seen
The Wavin-pipe justice that mine eyes have seen
Through thurible smoke and Emerald wrapper
Through my Wizzer and Chips, my Beezer and Topper
Through the cracked pink paint on the change room walls
The tight goose flesh, the hairy eyeball and the cast-iron radiator
Where our uniforms hung in threes and fours
And Ger Noone had his head shoved in the bed
Ger Noone had his head shoved in the bed
Ger Noone had his head shoved in the bed
He wouldn’t take a shower, they said
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2. |
Colours
03:07
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Did the plane slap down like a seagull’s arse?
Were you conquered cold in the long-term parking?
Did clouds beat down on your forehead, dark like a cartoon anvil?
Did you see a photograph ten feet tall
Of a golden crozier and Pope John Paul?
Did you hear the hairy marys call “Pray for Ireland”?
And did you fail, and fail again?
Did you fall on filthy knees?
Did you feel your mouth go “Please”?
And did you see colours in the fading evening glow?
Did you see colours of a Harry Clarke window
In the strobing aerodrome?
Did the laughing school girls line the walls
At the Santry exit near Beaumont Hospital?
In avenues did leaves fall?
Were there two young lovers?
And did they kiss, and kiss again?
Did the clouds part way to earth?
Were there several virgin births?
You bet there were flying colours
In the fading evening glow
Did you see colours of a city draped in gold
Or did you just drive straight on home?
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3. |
Moving to Athlone
03:19
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I’m going to Athlone just to set the tone today
Gonna get off the bus and forget about you
Tie a yellow ribbon round a portaloo
And right there I’ll remember not to care
‘Cause we all know they couldn’t care less there
I’m riding to Athlone ‘cause my heart is limestone today
Rest my head where dreams are dead, the bridges green and grey
There’s a Pole leaning on a mop
There’s packet soup and panic at the comfort stop
There’s Club M where depression stops
I’m moving to Athlone just to piss and moan away
To find a wheelie bin, where I’ll climb in
And from there I’ll survey
The poster crimes of Brendan Shine and David bloody Gray
I’ll eat the sawdust in Sean’s Bar
I hear there’s some old friends meeting there
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4. |
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Books and books and books and books
You know, I take them apart with my hands
And every time I turn to a brand new chapter
I’m already imagining how this ends
‘Cause each new page is like tracing paper
I can still feel the shame of past sins
Oh for your head of blonde hair
Your charm, your wit and your guile
Charlie O’Loughlin, Charlie O’Loughlin
Are they bottling that winning smile?
‘Cause I’d pay for one day in that ‘fuck that’ way
And your brown leather jacket style
See I’m no good with people
And they’re no good with me
And I could go ‘round feeling nothing about that
But the fact is, they’re in the majority
I stare through grubby windows at the bustling prosperity
Oh for your head of blonde hair
Your charm, your wit and your guile
Charlie O’Loughlin, Charlie O’Loughlin
Are they bottling that winning smile?
‘Cause I’d pay for one day in that ‘fuck that’ way
And your brown leather jacket style
See, I’m no good with these young ones
With their low tops, their FM boots
And I could publish a paper, get fruits for my labour
But you tell me, what the hell would that prove?
‘Cause I could do a better hustle with a generous slab of muscle
And an iron jaw just like you
Oh for your head of blonde hair
Your charm, your wit and your guile
Charlie O’Loughlin, Charlie O’Loughlin
Are they bottling that winning smile?
‘Cause I’d pay for one day in that ‘fuck that’ way
And your brown leather jacket style
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5. |
The Old Songs
03:21
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Mayflies by the lakeside
Diesel smell in the air
Last call by the graveside
And you standing there
You pull on a Benson
Like the first one we smoked
28 years ago
You pay for the first round
As was the convention
Your suit worn through re-use
Mine by intention
In accents we re-tread
The old songs we’d sing
And some other things
Why do humans search for
These old things that linger?
Like yesterday’s paper cut
Here on my finger
Familiar and nasal
The old songs said it all
And you know – they were no good at all
Late at night I can barely see with the drink,
But they’re calling to me
From the lake and the trees
“Come back to the old songs!
Come back, my cuckoo!
They’re by the phone waiting
They’re pining for you
To breathe life into them
To give music to them
And just to sing them again.”
La la la la la etc.
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6. |
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Well we talked all night like a pair of gobshites
“I’ve never been in a real fight,” you said
We were Burgess Shale monsters, all fossilised
And our words were meat and our eyes were red
And you held up a mirror and you were my brother
And we were there just to out-friend each other
Your mother then called, there were scousers more able
There were ten torn trousers by the worn pool table
I’ve never been in a real fight
I’ve never been in a real fight
You get a bit older and your time gets tight
And your hands are too old to care
There should be black, black eyes to go with black hearts
With our evasion of truth and this version of darts
There should be two Black Russians for our big black lies
And to be self-righteous you must first be right
In a Japanese bar she got ten out of ten
And I’m wondering if we’ll ever speak again
Deep in the sandstone are two trilobites
Our glasses are flailing, our muscles are tight
And you’ve never been in a real fight
You’ve never been in a real fight
Deep in the sandstone are two trilobites
And the sand is too old to care
I can’t swallow my beer, our dreams are flaccid
With the sadness deep down in our nucleic acids
Why, why, why must we replicate?
We must cut the cord and be banned from mating
With the walls all scrawled; our nails still bleeding
Our conversation was toilet graffiti
As I crawled on my bike, all hominid biped
“Let’s keep in touch,” you said
We’ve never been in a real fight
We’ve never been in a real fight
You talked to a man in the George’s Street light
And your hands were aloft in the air
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7. |
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I went to the National Gallery
Where I met up with Tom and Valerie
We started talking about Tom’s salary
And some other kind of mundane things
And then talked turned around to Dermot
And how every day he’s becoming a doormat
Wouldn’t be surprised if he’ll be losing his job soon
He’s only got himself to blame
Dermot, Dermot, Dermot, Dermot
What’s to become of Dermot?
He’s a real nice fella, yeah he’s totally sound
Until the moment that he’s not around
So I left the National Gallery
Said good bye to Tom and Valerie
Made my way up there to Merrion Square
And who’d I meet, but Dermot, there
Hey you know I was just talking to Tom and Val
And if you ask me I don’t things are going so well
Wouldn’t be surprised if they’ll be breaking up soon
They’ve only got themselves to blame
Dermot, Dermot, Dermot, Dermot
What’s to become of them, Dermot?
They’re real nice people, yeah they’re totally sound
Until the moment that they’re not around
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8. |
Threadneedle Road
03:06
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I love my dog but we must be parted
It’s ten o’clock, they are taking her away
It’s a quiet Saturday and the breeze is shifting
The farmer’s lifting some bales of hay
A ewe is dead and two lambs are orphaned
Her neck was gashed; I am sitting in the shed
And I know that later Dad will say “Were you sobbing?”
But even he’s not too old for that
My mother says life is temporary
Then sews a line, the Cortina’s on the lawn
And the yelping’s getting small with the revving engine
She doesn’t know what’s going on
Now I might see her on footpaths in Galway
Near Cruachán Park or on Threadneedle Road
But will I then be too old, will she recognise me?
Or look afraid, then be whistled home?
I love my dog but we must be parted
It’s ten o’clock, they are taking her away
It’s a quiet Saturday and the breeze is shifting
The farmer’s lifting some bales of hay
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9. |
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You might ask why I put so much interest in your life
Or why I don’t get on with the mundane business of living my own life
Well it’s amazing when young people fall in love
It’s amazing when young people fall in love
But young people don’t want to fall in love
Jack and Jill took a pill for the ultimate question
I was so sick with this love for you
Though it might have been indigestion
It’s amazing when young people fall in love
It’s amazing when young people fall in love
But young people don’t want to fall in love
She became a universe of blame, I was her Carl Sagan
She’d cut her toenails infinitely
While I put my hairpiece on
It’s amazing when young people fall in love
It’s amazing when young people fall in love
But young people don’t want to fall in love
Stay alive! But don’t just survive
Growing fat and owning cats
Wasting on love’s slag-heap of also-rans
Amid the teabags and tin cans
It was good that we laughed during loving
But was it with me or at me you were laughing?
Stand up! Be a man! Have proportion!
Then she put me in a circus contortion
It’s amazing when young people fall in love
It’s amazing when young people fall in love
But young people don’t want to fall in love
So you might ask why I show so much interest in your life
I’m just waiting for the look of love to someday return to your eye
‘Cause it’s amazing when we fall in love
It’s essential that we fall in love
But you don’t want to fall in love
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10. |
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My short-haired girl arrived just on cue
To the tune of dots and dashes
And check that too, it’s my stereo EQ
Dancing like cats on her wire-frame glasses
And love burst from my every pore
Love burst from my every pore
Paint peeled off the front door
As love burst from my every pore
Don’t listen to the voices
To the plod of plodding feet
Or the calculating beep-beep-beeps
Just stay here this morning with me
Then time got all splayed in the stale and the pale grey
Morning after drinking
She was impressed with my knowledge of chess
My uncommon sense and illogical thinking
And love burst from my every pore
Love burst from my every pore
Nails seem to rain on the front door
As love burst from my every pore
Don’t listen to the voices
To your brain go tweet-tweet-tweet
Or the holocaust of beep-beep-beeps
Just stay here this morning with me
And we looked awful smart
We were like two rusty shopping carts
Stuck in the muck of the Dodder
With the generous flow of E. coli water
I never want this moment to pass
The taste of the grass makes a fool of the ass
Squashed purple candle, pie left unspoken
One bottle half-corked, the other unopened
And there in red biro in the crook of my hand
“If I can forget them then you can”
Love burst from my every pore
Love burst from my every pore
The one-eared painter stared from the door
As love burst from my every pore
Don’t listen to the voices
To the so-called thoughts of those in the know
Check the intimate light of the dawn’s glow
And stay here this morning with me
And we looked awful smart
We were like two rusty shopping carts
Stuck in the muck of the Dodder
With the generous flow of E. coli water
I never want this moment to pass
The taste of the grass makes a fool of the ass
Don’t listen, listen to the voices etc.
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11. |
1995
02:36
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Memory is as memory does
I come bearing silent grudge
And a quietly retreating fringe
You’re probably wondering how this ends
But black was black and white was white
In summer, 1995
When we were holed up in a shack
I stole your toothbrush but put it back
Tell your brother to tell your sister
That I’d still love her and I’d still miss her
If she had played catch in the cloisters
I would have made her world my oyster
La la la la la la
La la la la la la
La la
Well it’s a tooth for a tooth, it’s an eye for an eye
Said the lady dentist to the man that was blind, blind, blind
It was hand to hand, it was mouth to mouth
It was caught on camera, it was on the couch
Tell your brother to tell your sister
That I still love her and I sure miss her
And time we wasted in the cloisters
I wonder if this still annoys her
La la la la la la
La la la la la la
La la
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Groom Dublin, Ireland
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