Lyrics to Song of The Bailing Man

Song of The Bailing Man, 1982

The Long Walk Home.
On the long walk home thoughts stride long & crankily.
The antelope are swaying to the song of the buffalo groaning,
old buffalo moaning,
as the heat beats down -
like a hammer!

The lay of the land is like a frying pan,
as the heat beats down -
like a hammer!

Molecular excitement means nourishment.
The orchestrations of biochemistry are eloquent.
Still the heat
as the heat beats down -
like a hammer!

On the prairie floor the insects roar!

The nights were cool -
Oh, the nights were cruel!
But the days were hot.
The days were hot!
On the long walk home.
Writers: Fier-Maimone-Ravenstine-Thomas-Thompson.
©1982 Bug Music / Cherry Red Songs.
Lyrics by David Thomas.

Use Of A Dog.
It brings a tear to the eye to see the kind of trust that bears many strains,
and it brings a smile to see trust that believes many things.
Who would question the worth of a dog?
Who would query the use of a dog?

Fidelity is a fine attribute.
His loyalty to his master is never in dispute.
Who would question the worth of a dog?
Who would query the use of a dog?

Watchfulness is a valuable trait.
Here's a friendly fellow who looks left and right to cross the street.
Who would question the worth of a dog?
Who would query the use?
Writers: Fier-Maimone-Ravenstine-Thomas-Thompson.
©1982 Bug Music / Cherry Red Songs.
Lyrics by David Thomas.

Petrified.
Not so many thousand years before these old rocks were the bones of the haplocanthosaur.
Old, old rocks.
Old.
Tall as a house,
gentle as a mouse -
Bare bones are petrified.
Later they are classified.
A skeleton may indicate,
imagination animates.
The mind's eye does need to see the fluid grace and subtlety,
of animals fitted perfectly to a world not like the one we see.

The bones of a flying animal now called the pterosaur have been found a hundred miles from the presumed seashore.
Old, old rocks.
Old.
One kind had teeth like a whale's -
One kind had a hair covering.
One kind would've been 37 feet from wing to wing -
Bare bones are petrified.
Later they are classified.
A skeleton may indicate,
imagination animates.
The mind's eye does need to see the fluid grace and subtlety,
of animals fitted perfectly to a world not like the one we see.

Here's the sort of bird that we don't see.
In some of the books it's not treated quite respectfully.
Old, old rocks.
Old, old rocks.
Has the short end of the stick been given archaeopteryx?
Writers: Fier-Maimone-Ravenstine-Thomas-Thompson.
©1982 Bug Music / Cherry Red Songs.
Lyrics by David Thomas.

Stormy Weather.
Stormy weather,
it might get better in a week,
or in the wink of an eye.
It's clearing off by Monday,
that's what the weathermen say.
It's good for ducks,
so don't complain,
when the rain comes tapping on the window panes just because someone is napping.
When do you think it will quit?
What is the outcome of it?

Who, who? Why so blue?
There's other things that we can do.
Writers: Fier-Maimone-Ravenstine-Thomas-Thompson.
©1982 Bug Music / Cherry Red Songs.
Lyrics by David Thomas.

West Side Story.
He's on his feet.
His feet are on the go.
He anticipates a show,
when winter comes home to Erie.

The day is burned away.
Evening comes as an after-thought.
Down below the lake,
salt mines are a subtler plot.

Ore boats cross the lake.
Birds hurry up & down,
riding in the wakes -
when winter comes home to Erie.

Clouds turn to stone.
The city looks frail as bone,
carved by a chinaman,
and left when he died alone.

That's Erie.
Writers: Fier-Maimone-Ravenstine-Thomas-Thompson.
©1982 Bug Music / Cherry Red Songs.
Lyrics by David Thomas.

Thoughts That Go By Steam.
The thoughts may go where the winds may blow,
weigho-weigho.
Or they may steam ahead wake in tow,
weigho-weigho.
"Sizz fizz!"
Thoughts go by steam.
"Sizz fizz!"
Thoughts go by steam.

Thoughts may go where the tides dictate,
weigho-weigho.
Or they might navigate,
weigho-weigho.
"Sizz fizz!"
Where are the thoughts that go by steam?
Rolling over the ocean's expanse!
"Sizz fizz!"
How is it done?
Stoking with coal!
"Sizz fizz!"
Thoughts go by steam.

Smoke curling in a cloudless sky.
The hull churns the wash.
The engines impel the reply,
as the great wide sea unfolds its swells.

Thoughts that go by steam are something to see,
as they come into view of -
Tooting horns!
Tooting horns!
Thoughts that go by steam are met with jubilation,
all the banners & bands and the -
Tooting horns!
Tooting horns!
"Sizz fizz!"
Where are the thoughts that go by steam?
Rolling over the ocean's expanse!
"Sizz fizz!"
How is it done?
Stoking with coal!
"Sizz fizz!"
Thoughts go by steam.
Writers: Fier-Maimone-Ravenstine-Thomas-Thompson.
©1982 Bug Music / Cherry Red Songs.
Lyrics by David Thomas.

Big Ed's Used Farms.
I had a good time -
Forgot to thank you for that good time!
In went the good air,
and out went the bad.
I like it there.
Alive! Alive!

I see him everywhere.
He looks just like me.
Such a happy guy.
Just like me.
Who can stop that happy guy?

I had a good time -
Forgot to thank you for that good time!
I looked back on a day well spent,
and I went to bed with a sense of accomplishment.
Beehive! Beehive!

I see him everywhere -
He looks just like me.
Such a happy guy.
Just like me.
Who can stop that happy guy?
"Beetle Man.
"Beetle Man,
"scutters 'cross the field.
"Through waving grass,
"plowing air,
"like a ship he heels."
Who can stop that happy guy?
Writers: Fier-Maimone-Ravenstine-Thomas-Thompson.
©1982 Bug Music / Cherry Red Songs.
Lyrics by David Thomas.

A Day Such As This.
[Part 1]
On a day such as this,
insist on more than the truth.
H Y P
E R B
O L E

Today, dear poet,
we must insist on more -
more than the ordinary turn of phrase,
other than the usual stock in trade.
Such a day as this cries out for emphasis.
Where are the thoughts that swing from the trees?
Where are the hats that hang in the breeze?
Where are the words that'll freshen the air like a shower?
On a day such as this,
insist on more than the truth.
(What is the designate etiquette on such a day?)

[Part 2]
At last, by reasoning cast as a character peevishly bound,
the solution comes clear -
persevere.
I was nearly drowned!
(The folderol of fretful peregrination.)

It rained CATS.
It rained dogs. It rained logs.
It rained HATS.
It rained trees. It rained fleas.
It rained SPATS.
It rained boxes to put it all in.
(The trumpet call of rampant exaggeration.)

With each ensuing sneeze,
raindrops shake from the leaves,
and they shake from the trees -
they shake from the leaves of the sheltering trees.
Grumbling over the goats, they go.
Mumbling under their coats, they know.
Bundling into the boats, they row.
Who knows where they go?
They go where they go where they go!
(The folderol of fretful peregrination.)

Yo-ho!
Oh-ho!
If the rain doesn't stop,
and the boxes pile up,
then we'll pass on the motion to bail out the ocean
with buckets!
That's the word that's overheard.
(The trumpet call of rampant exaggeration.)

(What is the designate etiquette on such a day?)

[Part 3]
Some will say the feet.
Some will say a dog.
Some will say a man's best friend is hyperbole.
Writers: Fier-Maimone-Ravenstine-Thomas-Thompson.
©1982 Bug Music / Cherry Red Songs.
Lyrics by David Thomas.

The Vulgar Boatman Bird.
I did not hear the vulgar boatman yesterday,
or the day before.
The dawn,
coming on the river,
reflecting,
flashed a semaphore.
Tomorrow, manyana.
Manyana, tomorrow.
I'll get up early,
get up early and I'll wake you up.

Who would know where the vulgar boatman goes?
Writers: Fier-Maimone-Ravenstine-Thomas-Thompson.
©1982 Bug Music / Cherry Red Songs.
Lyrics by David Thomas.

My Hat.
Some hats are shaped like Oklahoma.
Some hats are shaped like the Zuider Zee.
Some hats are small & dusty objects.
Some hats look like me.
Some hats are thinking caps,
unmindful of their dinghy flaps.
Some hats are springboks,
startled by low-flying trucks.
O-we-o-we-i I don't want to know why.

Some hats tumble & fly through the air.
Some hats sit on foam heads & stare.
O-we-o-we-i Please don't ask me why.
O-we-o-we-i I don't want to know why.
Writers: Fier-Maimone-Ravenstine-Thomas-Thompson.
©1982 Bug Music / Cherry Red Songs.
Lyrics by David Thomas.

Horns Are A Dilemma.
As we roll out to sea,
I think of some things we may need.
They are awkward moments,
minutes rather,
as we roll out to sea.
As we roll out to sea,
I designate the horns "A" & "B."
As the alternatives are weighed the coastline fades.
Square pegs! Round holes.
Round pins! Square holes.
Square pegs for round holes -
Round pins for triangles!
No cause to be so glum,
according to the rule of thumb it may be a small thing,
a small thing to overcome.

As we roll out to sea,
we'll need to rely on ingenuity.
As we roll out to sea,
a passing remark refers to a part we may need.
As we roll out to sea,
As we ROLL out to sea,
we think of the things we may need.
Writers: Fier-Maimone-Ravenstine-Thomas-Thompson.
©1982 Bug Music / Cherry Red Songs.
Lyrics by David Thomas.

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