Show a little pride before you fall.

Listen all you young folk your lives on a timetable,
clocking on twenty-one fly while you're able.
A stitch in time saves nine.
Said Cock Robin from the wall.
It's an early bird catches the worm.
Show a little pride before you fall.

"Crossword"

Walking on air, shoulder and head above you.
Down in the street, black canyons walking through.
Hooded sad eyes, fixed on your shuffle shoes.
Life is a clue in your crossword.

Typewriter turk. Telephone terror takes
time to wind down. Push-button finger shakes.

Your life is a clue in the crossword.

Working to rule in your own time.
Drag yourself home to your star sign page.
Staying awake on cold yesterday's steak and warm beer.

Ladder of string climbing to sweet success.
Homework aside. Your brain on the train to test.
Pick up the news (you left on the seat beside you).
Your life is a clue in the crossword.
Your life is a clue in the crossword.
Your life is a clue in the crossword.

"Kelpie"

There was a warm wind with the high tide on the south of the hill.
When a young girl went a-walking and I followed with a will.
"Good day to you, my fine young lady, with your lips so sweetly full.
May I help you comb your long hair, sweep it from that brow so cool?"
Up, ride with the kelpie.
I'll steal your soul to the deep.
If you don't ride with me while the devil's free
I'll ride with somebody else.

Well I'm a man when I'm feeling the urge to step ashore.
So I may charm you not alarm you. Tell you all fine things, and more.
Up, ride with the kelpie.
I'll steal your soul to the deep.
If you don't ride with me while the devil's free

I'll ride with somebody else.

Say goodbye to all your dear kin for they hate to see you go
in your young prime, to this place of mine in the still loch far below.
Up, ride with the kelpie.
I'll steal your soul to the deep.
If you don't ride with me while the devil's free
I'll ride with somebody else.

Up, ride with the kelpie.
I'll steal your soul to the deep.
If you don't ride with me while the devil's free
I'll ride with somebody else.

"Beastie"

From early days of infancy, through trembling years
of youth, long murky middle-age and final hours
long in the tooth, he is the hundred names of terror ---
creature you love the least. Picture his name before
you and exorcise the beast.

He roved up and down through history --- spectre
with tales to tell. In the darkness when the
campfire's dead --- to each his private hell. If you look
behind your shoulder as you feel his eyes to feast, you

can witness now the everchanging nature of the beast.

Beastie

If you wear a warmer sporran, you can keep the foe at
bay. You can pop those pills and visit some
psychiatrist who'll say --- There's nothing I can do
for you, everywhere's a danger zone. I'd love to help
get rid of it, but I've got one of my own.

There's a beast upon my shoulder and a fiend upon
my back. Feel his burning breath a heaving, smoke
oozing from his stack. And he moves beneath the
covers or he lies below the bed. He's the beast upon
your shoulder. He's the price upon your head. He's
the lonely fear of dying, and for some, of living too.
He's your private nightmare pricking. He'd just love
to turn the screw. So stand as one defiant --- yes, and
let your voices swell. Stare that beastie in the face
and really give him hell.

"The Clasp"

We travellers on the endless wastes in single orbits,
gliding cold-eyed march towards the dawn behind
hard-weather hoods a-hiding.
Meeting as the tall ships do, passing in the channel
afraid to chance a gentle touch ---
afraid to make the clasp.

In high-rise city canyons dwells the discontent of ages.
On ring roads, nose to bumper crawl
commuters in their cages. Cryptic signals flash
across from pilots in the fast lane. Double-locked

and belted in --- too late to make the clasp.

Let's break the journey now on some lonely road.
Sit down as strangers will, let the stress unload.
Talk in confidential terms, share a dark unspoken fear.
Refill the cup and drink it up. Say goodnight and
wish good luck.

Synthetic chiefs with frozen smiles holding unsteady courses.
Grip the reins of history, high on their battle horses.
And meeting as good statesmen do before the T.V.
eyes of millions, hand to hand exchange the lie ---
pretend to make the clasp.

"Fallen On Hard Times"

Fallen on hard times --- but it feels good to know
that milk and honey's just around the bend.
Running on bad lines --- we'd better run as we go,
Tear up, tear up the overdraft again.

Oh, dear Prime Minister --- it's all such a mess.
Go right ahead and pull the rotten tooth.
Oh, Mr. President --- you've been put to the test.
Come clean, for once, and hit us with the truth.

Looking for sunshine --- oh but it's black and it's cold
Yet, you say that milk and honey's just round the bend.
Giving us a hard time, my friends