three songs

BABY, I’M FEELING IT NOW

I drove the Stagecoach, the 55 to Calne

But I lost my way one evening and bounced it off a barn

A lady in the back she said I was asleep

And the Stagecoach inspectors agreed.

Well nobody died

They mostly just cried

But baby I’m feeling it now.

If I could meet my sister then I would say to her

“I wanted to come with you out to Australia

Where I could ride horses, take the boys to the sea,

Get to know my own family.”

I can’t really say

It would’ve turned out that way

But baby I’m feeling it now.

If I could make a pile, like those I lost before

Then I would buy a bottle and drink it by the shore

In the Palace of Fortune I’d stand there all day

And I’d watch my money dribble away

And I sit in a taxi to the far side of town

And I’d burn that barn to the ground.

What other people feel

Never seems real

But baby I’m feeling it now.

CLOUD

Cloud
So still and perfect  in the sky

Yet in the twinkling of an eye

All changed…
Cloud

If I ever wanted inspiration you would be the first thing on my mind.

Cloud

When I think of you I got to feel proud

I knew you

Cloud
When sunset turns the sky to rose

It’s only minutes till the close

I know…

Cloud

If you knew that you were leaving then you might have found a way to say goodbye.

Cloud

That crazy evening when I was allowed

To love you
Cloud

Cloud

I wonder if somebody new

Will one day get closer to you

Than I could…

Cloud

Something lifts the air and messes it around until the shapes you knew are gone

Cloud

And us reduced to strangers in the crowd-

ed city...

LAY ALL YOUR CARDS ON THE TABLE

Barefoot girl runs with a windmill

Mother sailing on behind

One bird sings across the valley

One sings from the other side.

The line of mountains to the sky

Big-boned horse lets out a snicker

Standing in a hill of grass

Children playing by the river

Stop to watch a stranger pass

It’s just the same it always was

And when the breeze

Rustles the leaves

And the evening shadows draw in

You’d better lay all your cards on the table,

Or nothing can ever begin.

Timber-truck upon the high road

Rattling empty to the wood

Engineers out on the forecourt

With their trays of takeout food

And who am I to intrude?

Church-bells echo from the tower

Poking up among the pines

And the churchyard’s full of flowers

And the church it looks so fine

As white as snow in wintertime.

And when the breeze

Rustles the leaves

And the evening shadows draw in

You’d better lay all your cards on the table,

Or throw all your hopes to the wind.