THE BELLS


I was born to the sound of a ringing bell
A sound that had a tale to tell
A tale that told of the time to come
Time and the ringing bell

As I grew strong they built the land
Built with the labour the brain and the hands
The brain to plan, the hand to take
The crystal from the sand

One winters morning I was wed
Became a man in a hotel bed
The bells were ringing as we left the church
Ringing in my head

So ring out the bells
So ring out the bells

The years went past, a boy was born
Champagne bubbled and suits were worn
The older I get, the deeper in debt
Dusk gets nearer than dawn

So ring out the bells
So ring out the bells

What you've never had you'll never miss
But what you've always had's like a deadly kiss
I had a wish, I had a time
Between the chimes of the bells

So ring out the bells
So ring out the bells

THE COLOURS


I am a member of the council of the naval mutiny
And no traitor to my conscience having done my sworn duty
These are my last words before the scaffold and I charge you all to hear
How a wretched British sailor became a citizen mutineer
Pressed into service to carry powder I was loyal to the crack of the whip
It I starved on the streets of Bristol, I starved worse on a British ship
Red is the colour of the new republic
Blue is the colour of the sea
White is the colour of my innocence
Not surrender to your mercy
I was woken from my misery by the words of Thomas Paine
On my barren soil they fell like the sweetest drops of rain
Red is the colour of the new republic
Blue is the colour of the sea
While is the colour of my innocence
Not surrender to your mercy
So in the spring of the year we took the fleet
Every cask and cannon and compass sheet
And we flew a Jacobean flag to give us heart
While Pitt stood helpless we were waiting for Bonaparte
Red is the colour of the new republic
Blue is the colour of the sea
White is the colour of my innocence
Not surrender to your mercy
All you soldiers, all you sailors, all you labourers of the land
All you beggars, all you builders, all you come here to watch me hang
To the masters we are the rabble, we are the 'swinish multitude'
But we can re-arrange the colours of the red and the white and the blue
Red is the colour of the new republic
Blue is the colour of the sea
White is the colour of my innocence
Not surrender to your mercy
Red is the colour of the new republic
Blue is the colour of the sea
White is the colour of my innocence
Not surrender to your mercy

THE CREST


I've nothing left to give you, but for one last thing I've saved
In the comer of the cellar look inside the iron chest
Bearing seven silver medals there lies wrapped a wooden crest
>From the father to the son
Like a bullet from a gun
Seven silver crosses hammered on a wooden one
The name on the last medal is a man I never knew
Though I bore his name and nature and his conscience as I grew
When they shipped him back from Passchendaele it was raining in his head
Not caused by any bullet but by the faces of the dead
>From the father to the son
Like a bullet from a gun
Seven silver crosses hammered on a wooden one
When the boys came home from Dunkirk Beach, the crest came down to me
And I served as stretcher bearer up the back of Italy
But I didn't slow a bullet or blow any flesh apart
My medal was a red cross that was strapped across my heart
>From the father to the son
Like a bullet from a gun
Seven silver crosses hammered on a wooden one
Many decades later I have seen the bounty drop
We scattered those generations now we reap a ruined crop
The brains, the brawn, the beauty each in turn were sacrificed
And marked up with a plain cross like the suffering Jesus Christ
>From the father to the son
Like a bullet from a gun
Seven silver crosses hammered on a wooden one
>From the father to the son
Like a bullet from a gun
Seven silver crosses hammered on a wooden one
I wish that I could give you something fine and something proud
A history of stuggle to emancipate the crowd
But all I give's a blessing take the shield down to the sea
Sacrifice tradition and save your family
>From the father to the son
Like a bullet from a gun
Seven silver crosses hammered on a wooden one
(repeat)

THE GHOSTS OF CABLE STREET


England, 1936.
The grip of the Sabbath day
In London town the only sound
Is a whisper in an alleyway
Men put on their gloves and boots
Have a smoke before they go
From the west there is a warning of
A wind about to blow

Like Caesar marching to the East
Marches Mosley with his men
Dressed in their clothes of deepest black
Like a gathering hurricane
This is the British Union
With its flag of black and red
A flag that casts a shadow in
Berlin and in Madrid

So listen to the sound of marching feet
And the voices of the ghosts of Cable Street
Fists and stones and batons and the gun
With courage we shall beat those blackshirts down

So mile by mile they come on down
To a place called Cable Street
And other men are waiting there
Preparations are complete
Mosley comes so close
They now can see his outstretched arm
A hand raised up that way
Never took the future in its palm

Listen to the sound of marching feet
And the voices of the ghosts of Cable Street
Fists and stones and batons and the gun
With courage we shall beat those blackshirts down

The battle broke as the fists and the batons fell
Through the barricades came the sound of the wounded
yells
Jack Spot burst through with a chair leg made of lead
Brought down a crashing blow on Mosley's head

And so we learn from history generations have to fight
And those who crave for mastery
Must be faced down on sight
And if that means by words, by fists
By stones or by the gun
Remember those who stood up for
Their daughters and their sons

Listen to the sound of marching feet
And the voices of the ghosts of Cable Street
Fists and stones and batons and the gun
With courage we shall beat those blackshirts down

Listen to the sound of marching feet
And the voices of the ghosts of Cable Street
Fists and stones and batons and the gun
With courage we shall beat those blackshirts down

THE GREEN FIELDS OF FRANCE (NO MAN'S LAND)


Well, how do you do, Private William McBride,
Do you mind if I sit down here by your graveside?
And rest for awhile in the warm summer sun,
I've been walking all day, and I'm nearly done.
And I see by your gravestone you were only 19
When you joined the glorious fallen in 1916,
Well, I hope you died quick and I hope you died clean
Or, Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene?

Did they Beat the drum slowly, did the play the pipes
lowly?
Did the rifles fir o'er you as they lowered you down?
Did the bugles sound The Last Post in chorus?
Did the pipes play the Flowers of the Forest?

And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind
In some loyal heart is your memory enshrined?
And, though you died back in 1916,
To that loyal heart are you forever 19?
Or are you a stranger without even a name,
Forever enshrined behind some glass pane,
In an old photograph, torn and tattered and stained,
And fading to yellow in a brown leather frame?

The sun's shining down on these green fields of France;
The warm wind blows gently, and the red poppies dance.
The trenches have vanished long under the plow;
No gas and no barbed wire, no guns firing now.
But here in this graveyard that's still No Man's Land
The countless white crosses in mute witness stand
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man.
And a whole generation who were butchered and damned.

And I can't help but wonder, no Willie McBride,
Do all those who lie here know why they died?
Did you really believe them when they told you "The
Cause?"
Did you really believe that this war would end wars?
Well the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame
The killing, the dying, it was all done in vain,
For Willie McBride, it all happened again,
And again, and again, and again, and again.

TINY SOLDIERS


There's a troop of tiny tin soldiers
Marching to war 'cross the floor
Towards an ambush by artillery
Waiting behind the door
Plastic tanks, trucks and armoured cars
Catapults, ships and guns
It's all a campaign in a childrens' game
Toys for education and fun

Every imaginable fighting force
Is found in most little boys' rooms
Moulding their minds for the future
Into 'Action Men' they can become
And the perfect present for a birthday
Or the season of peace and goodwill
Is a toy battlefield or a sword and a shield
Or a book about people who kill

Childrens' comics and posters
Visions of violence and death
Are pushed onto each generation
Almost from the very first breath
And it's been the same since Man became
It looks as though it will stay
And if this trend should ever end
Would it make a difference anyway?

YOU'RE THE ONE


Everytime I see your face
My heart seems to leap into outer space
And I'm flyin', flyin' over the moon for you
I get a funny feelin' inside of me
Kinda like a cat caught in a tree
Cryin', cryin' outta tune for you

Cos' you're the one who keeps me strong
Cos' you're the one who rights my wrong

If I get sick you're my cure
If I'm uncertain you make me sure
I could be lyin' but I would still swoon for you
I'll do anything that you want me to do
And I'll be anything that you want me to
Without trying I'll be a buffoon for you

Cos' you're the one who keeps me sane
Cos' you're the one who breaks my chains

You're the one who keeps me strong
You're the one who rights my wrong

You are the music that turns me on
You turn my feeling into song
I'll sing, I'll croon for you

If you were out walking and it started to rain
I would catch the drops and throw them back again
I would dry out, dry out a monsoon for you
If you get hot and you want a swim
I will dig a lake and you can jump in
I would cry out, cry out a lagoon for you

Cos' you're the one who keeps me strong
You're the one who keeps me sane
You're the one who rights my wrong
You're the one who breaks my chains