She was white innocence.

A perfect hole was in her stocking:
it made a perfect window to her heart.
I could have moved among her waterfalls:
her misty curtains drawn apart.
Did she see warm safety in my numbers
to want to hitch a ride this way?
Felt like I was taking her to market now
to be sold as the last lot of the day.
Funny thing, the distance of the lonely.
Funny thing, the charm of the young.
White innocence.

She pressed the button, lowered the window:
let her hand trail in the slipstream of the night.
A frost from nowhere seemed to lick her fingers:
I could have warmed them, but the moment wasn't right.
Obvious, she was headed nowhere special:
yes, well it was even obvious to me.
I was doing some, some watching, some waiting:

"Sleeping With The Dog"

Her love is like a candle: you light it up at night.
Her heart is like a pack of cards: one chance to guess it right.
Sometimes I do.
She's got a tongue like a viper, but she can whisper like a dove.
Soft touch like brushed velvet: till she hits you from above.
And sometimes she does.

She leaves me breathing: down like a fallen log.
Just when I feel like dancing
I wake up sleeping with the dog.

And it goes: (woof) sleeping with the dog.

I have to guess at the mysteries of her unfathomable soul.
Guess when the time seems right
to make a broken spirit whole
and that time is due. C'm'on.

She leaves me breathing: down like a fallen log
and just when I feel like dancing
I wake up sleeping with the dog.
And it goes: (woof) sleeping with the dog.

"Gold-Tipped Boots, Black Jacket And Tie"

I'm banered and bruised. I got lines I can't use.
My head won't deliver. Well, I'm sold down the river.
But I'm turning again.
Yes, `n' I'm turning again.
Well, I'm turning again.
And I'm turning again.
Wearing gold-tipped boots, black jacket and tie.

Well, I've been second to none:
this horse was ready to run.
Now I'm has-been and used:
disarmed and de-fused
but I'm turning again.
And I'm turning again.
Yes, `n' I'm turning again.
I'm turning again.

"When Jesus Came To Play"

I was in my watering-hole with some ugly friends of mine
when he door came off its hinges like a cork from fizzy wine.
He said, ``My name is Jesus: I'm the leader of the band.
Got to set up my equipment, if you boys can lend a hand.''
Oh yeah. When Jesus came to play.

He set that bandstand jumping. Yeah, and he cranked it up so loud.
And he moved up to the microphone: had the attention of the crowd.
He said, ``My name is Jesus: going to turn your head around.
I'm going to make this easy. Got no time to mess around.''

Oh yeah. When Jesus came to play.

``I got no twelve disciples, and I got no cross to bear.
If you thought they had me crucified, I guess you weren't there.''
Oh yeah. When Jesus came to play. When Jesus came...

He sang about three or four numbers, but we'd heard it all before.
We boys were getting restless: no girls were moving on the floor.
Those parables, they were merciless and the tables overturned.
And there were no minor miracles
but false prophets they were burned.
Well, maybe he was Jesus;
but his hair could have used a comb.
Long before he hit the last notes, we boys had all gone home.
Oh yeah. When Jesus came to play.

Oh Jesus, is it really you?

"Night In The Wilderness"

I could he sitting on the left of you.
You'd be looking straight ahead.
If I was adrift right across from you,
you still would cut me dead.
I've had better deep discussions
with this plate of soft-shelled crab.

I'd put some spice in your rice.
You'd give me blues in the stew.
I'd give you catfish jumping.
You'd give me all this work to do.
Who's got the cheque on this hot dinner?

Who's got the tabs on the crab?

Another night in the wilderness:
should have been a night on the town.
Lesson in learning how to hold a conversation down.
I'm in splendid isolation, feel that heavy silence fall.
Got all this cut out for me to do.
Another night in the wilderness of you.

Here I am drinking you with my eyes.
You're looking at the gravy on my bib.
I go weak-kneed at the suggestion of you.
What's wrong with the cut of my jib?
Is there a lobster in the offing, or just a fifty dollar cheque?

"Look At The Animals"

The tiny ant leaves his tiny ant drops in the sand,
And makes his home inside a rusty watering can,
Occasionally going out to look for bread and jam.

He runs into a sparrow who hasn't eaten for a week,
And later, quite contented, the sparrow cleans his beak,
Failing to notice pussy cat has come out to take a leak.

Our cat partakes of dinner when a sodden kangaroo
Emerges from the undergrowth and asks to use the loo.
Kangaroos aren't usually dangerous, for that would never do.

My goodness, will you look at all the animals queuing on the stairs!
Look at the animals in the zoo; how would you like to be one?
They're waiting to use the lavatory and putting chewing gum in each
other's hair.
Look at the animals, look at you; well how would you like to free one?

Good gracious, will you look at all the animals playing with their tools!
Look at the animals, look at you; well how would you like to queer one?
Flying from the chandeliers and treading in their elephantine stools.
Look at the animals, two by two; aren't you glad to be one?

This kangaroo's a lunatic and his pouch is very full
Of pussy cats and penguins who can't fly as a rule,
But then neither could the pussy cat: he never went to school.

The kangaroo gets nervous when confronted by the size
Of an elephant named Simon who is always telling lies;
He swears he wears green corduroys and can button up his fly.

Presently, a fatter Simon's indigestion fails.
He regurgitates the whole damn mess into an aluminum pail,
And the tiny ant scuttles back inside his watering can
Occasionally going out to look for bread and jam.

"Law Of The Bungle"

The tiger flashes sharpened teeth.
Bowler-hatted; summer briefs
Beneath his pinstriped skin.

To kill demands a business sense;
Economy moves non-residence
Approaching from down-wind.

Being a tiger means you laugh
Whenever lesser tigers have
To eat meat that's infected.

Being a tiger means your mate