1. HARLEQUIN DANCES
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1970s

The people have gone, the theatre is empty
The doors are all barred, the theatre's closed.
The shows and the companies won't be returning
The last curtain call was a long time ago.
No more rehearsals, no more leading ladies
No more ballerinas or hams or buffoons.
Gone is the limelight, the nerves on the first night,
Gone are the comics and clowns and signature tunes.
I can remember the place in its heyday
The laughter, the lights, the cheers from the stalls.
The houses were full, well all the stars played here
Just look at the names on the dressing room walls.

CH:
And wasn't it nice
Wasn't it lovely
Wasn't it grand, oh wasn't it gay.
The magical nights, the make believe journey
Now they're all gone and they're faded away.

Some people say the theatre is haunted
Phantoms appear and go through their scenes.
An audience of ghosts applauds them in silence
Those dancers and jugglers, those princes and kings.
Hamlet is wand'ring in Elsinore's hallways
Feste the jester still goes through his rhymes,
Poor Cinderella runs home after midnight
And Harlequin dances once more with sweet Columbine.
Chorus lines, pantomimes, operas and farces
This grand lady theatre took them all in.
Some went to the top, some fell on their faces
But they were her children, each one the same.

CH twice

2. SALAMANDER
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1990s

Fellow travellers in this time, listen to this tale of mine
Come spare a moment, hear this rhyme, for every word is true.
The road of life is hard and long, and every mile I travelled on
I gathered stories, gathered songs, here's a song for you.
So pass the bottle, fill my glass, storytelling's a thirsty task
Your ears, your ears are all I ask, perhaps a coin or two

CH:
Hear the tale of the storyman, the little spider that spins the yarn
A Salamander on a sailors arm, my rhyme is your tattoo.

When I was young I left my home, had to travel on my own
A Romany, a lonesome stone that could not help but roll.
Through Samarkand and far Cathay the Silk Road it was my way,
Cold nights in the Himalay, frozen to the bone.
In Byzantium I learned to laugh, in Mandalay I took my bath
The Road became my garden path, the world became my home.

CH

I tarried in Luangfrabang and there I joined a Caravan
We travelled deep in the Southern Lands along the Crystal Sea.
We came to rest in the Ironland, a city built on crimson sand
And there my heart betrayed my plan, for there I fell in love.
I fell in love with a minstrel girl, dark eyes and a crown of curls,
And in her navel shone a silver pearl.oh she took my breath away.

She was betrothed to another man, he did her wrong, he gave her harm
I broke his head I broke his arms and sent him on his way.
I played the hawk, she played the dove. I was the hand she was the glove
On the magic carpet of her love she flew my soul away.
She said I will not tie you down! For I am Romany from now!
Show me your world you Gypsy hound.Ah we sailed away that day.

CH

We played to kings in Amritsar, my silver rhymes, her silk sitar
And to the North we charmed a Czar, so we made our way.
We beat a path unto the West, the Romanys' infernal quest
The years flew till we made a nest in Erin's Northern isle.
And when we'd grown a family my Lady Grey she said to me
'For sure they'll fly' they're Romany', and sure those fledglings flew

CH

My Lady grew too old to play. Her sitar in the corner lay.
She bade me go and tell my tales, but no I stayed at home.
My Lady passed away this year, so my friends you find me here
I sing my songs, I drink your beer. She's gone and I'm alone.
Fellow travellers I hope you find a love as deep and as true as mine.
There is no knife so sharp so fine, there is no knife so sharp so fine.
No knife so sharp so fine as love so sweetly honed.

CH

3. TRAVELLERS' TALES
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1980s

Come sit you down you poor weary traveller I see you are hungry and cold
Here's a bed for the night, a bright fire for your warming and hot steaming soup in a bowl.
'Tis all that we have and all that we ask in return is an hour of your time
To tell us your tales of those wonderful places and people you surely have known.

CH:
For travellers' tales are food for our dreaming and travellers come rarely this way
And we sail our ships upon our dream oceans when we hear those travellers' tales
When we hear those travellers' tales.

Well, the traveller began to tell of his journeys and wonderful yarns did he weave
Of his dangerous times and far flung adventures and such that we could not believe
Of mythical beasts in the far mystic east and the hard frozen plains to the north
And the many strange breeds and colours and creeds of the people who dwell on this earth.

CH

Later that night I lay in my bed and I dwelt on the travellers words
And I longed to be a soldier of fortune and wander all over the world.
Then I fell asleep, and deep in my slumber I dreamed that I sailed on the sea
And I was a man, a traveller, a rover and the whole world belonged just to me.

CH

4. IF STORIES WERE MADE OF GOLD
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1990s

Do you remember the apprentice lad that ran away to sea
When He'd only worked a fortnight at the iron foundry
I recall his name was Davy and I remember now the day
He walked out of the foundry, took a ship and sailed away

Well the months rolled by and the seasons came and went as seasons do
Even those that long remembered came to say well Davy who?
The years did cloud our memories, those tens of years and more
And we all forgot the brave lad who escaped this iron shore.

CH:
But Davy's come home to the place he left so long ago
A brazen tan upon his face and a beard of pure white snow
And all he has he's gone and sold for a few coins in the hand
But if stories were made of gold he'd be a wealthy man
He'd be a wealthy man.

When he went off to the faraways he didn't take much tack
Just the clogs upon his feet and the clothes upon his back
He's come home now with little more than the things he took to sea
But he's lost and won and seen and done much more than you or me.

CH

In the taproom of the Iron Bar with our company and ale
It takes a little bribe to make old Davy tell a tale
I've seen him in the long long night at the ending of a do
He's got snaggers, spuds and meat enough to boil a week of stew

CH

His stories are like journeys with their twists and turns and bends
Sometimes I think those stories and journeys have no end
For he makes a little living now from the spinning of those yarns
So perhaps it's not for me to say he's not a wealthy man.

CH

5. THE PEDLAR'S ROAD
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1990s

My journey's been long said the Pedlar man
I've bought and I've sold and I've done what I can
I've had more than my share of this miserable land
So I'm going back home, I'm on my way home.

CH:
The pedlar's road is a hard road,
The pedlar's road is the loneliest road to be on and I'm glad I'm all done
For the kindest of roads is the road that is taking me home.

I'll be off after dawn in the fresh morning air
With the sun on my back and the wind in my hair
And a hangover paid for tonight fair and square
So pour some more beer, some more and some more.

I'll be at the border not long before noon
Leaving this land not a minute too soon
I'll arrive at my home by the light of the moon
Humming a tune, I'll be humming a tune

CH

When he slipped 'neath the table we were not alarmed
Gently we dragged him feet first to the barn
And he slept with his horse quite safe from all harm
And they snored and they snored, Lord how they snored.

At morning the pedlar was good as his word
He woke up with a head he so richly deserved
He just hitched up his horse and the last that we heard
He was humming a tune, humming a tune.

CH

6. THE BETHLEHEM CAFÉ
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1990s

Gazing from my window at the rooftops of the town
When the twilight's coming down upon the day.
The lights come on down Easy Road, the clip joints, the dirty show,
The cross above the Bethlehem Café.
Long the shadow, deep the dark, not even fools walk through the park
Taxis scurry by along the shore.
Sirens wail downtown somewhere, my room is cold, I do not care,
For love no longer knocks upon my door.

CH:
Easy. Too easy
We met, we loved, we lost, she slipped away.
Lonely. I got lonely
And I went back to the Bethlehem Café.

The Bethlehem Café shines like a beacon in the dark
And many's the moths are drawn toward the light.
The wanderers of the city plain, the sad, the mad, the lost, the strange
And any lonely heart that haunts the night.
And on that night we chanced to meet, we talked of things beyond our reach
We reached for things too far, too far away.
We hummed and hovered in the night, two moths against the naked light
Burning at the Bethlehem Café.

CH

The greatest fool in history, the empty bedroom laughs.
The kitchen echoes hollow like a tomb.
And lying soiled upon the stair, the bathrobe that we used to share
When passion once danced barefoot through these rooms.
The Bethlehem calls out to me. I make my way down Harbour Street.
The boat lights dance like moths out on the bay.
Drinking from an empty glass, watching faces drifting past
The window of the Bethlehem Café.

CH

8. NORTH COUNTRY
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1990s

She wears no paint upon her face, no rings upon her fingers
She walks the world with grace, enchanting all who see her.
She captured me right from the start, the first day that I met her
A hostage was my heart, my soul the willing prisoner.
Together we did sail beyond the realms of understanding Lost on the tides of love in oceans never ending.

CH:
My love is in the north country and ever will she be there.
I am in the cold country and ever will I stay here.

With all my heart I loved that lass, so much my feelings hurt me
My love exceeds my grasp, my reason deserts me.
I could not bear those wracks of pain, so I had to leave her
And the pain of being away is less than being with her.

CH

Had I loved her a little less perhaps I'd still be with her
Not in this wilderness, this life of ever winter.
I never can go home again to my beloved country
Nor walk the hills again with my beloved lady

CH

9. TEQUILA MOCKINGBIRD
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 2000

S'cuse me lady
I didn't mean to appear to be staring so
But you look just like somebody I used to know
A long way away and half a life ago
Sweet memories of a little town in Mexico.

You got her eyes
And as far as I can see you got her hips and thighs
And when you smile you smile just like she used to smile
And the clothes that you're wearing are the very style
She wore on that desert dawn we kissed goodbye.
I fell for her
That night in Miguel's when I held her so close on the dance floor
I swear I'd never held a girl like that before
Not just a dance, no a whole lot more
It was love that I found in that little town in Mexico.

CH:
Senorita
I didn't mean to appear to be staring so
But you look just like somebody I used to know
A long way away and half a life ago
I have memories of a little town in Mexico.

I take a drink
And then I get to thinking how things might have been
If I'd been a little stronger and not given in
Though I tried to make her see our love was not a sin
And I damn the day I let her run back home to him.
I still think of her
I tried to forget but I never did ever get over her
She's stuck in my head and in my heart, damn this beer
My vision's blurred, my words are slurred I'm outta here
'Cause the more that I drink the more I think that you could be her.

CH

Senorita
I didn't mean to appear to be staring so
But you look just like somebody I used to know
A long way away and half a life ago
Sad memories of a little town in Mexico
Sad memories of a little town in Mexico.

10. THE END OF THE ROMANY ROAD
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1990s

When the sun kissed the heels of the low low lands
And the sky was aflame in the dawn
I met a man on the land, I asked where he was bound,
He said to find this poor body a home.
He was cursed from the start with a Romany heart
And the lust for to follow the road
But now he's old and he's weary and even a gypsy
Needs a haven to lay down his load.

CH:
He said long have I wandered and much have I squandered
And manys the bridges I burned
Far have I travelled, the miles I've unravelled
And too many corners I've turned.

Now the Romany Race has been chivvied and chased
All over the face of this world
Here's an old gypsyman who has no caravan,
Many long years ago it was burned.
Wherever I've tarried I've been hounded and harried
Out of every damned country I've roamed
So it's on I must strive till I know I've arrived
At the end of the Romany road.

CH

Well I offered a meal and me barn for the night,
He said I'll take no mans charity
And I thought yes it shows why he's still on the road,
Gypsy pride's his own worst enemy.
Well it's to my own shame I never asked him his name,
To this day well it still shames me so
I just bade him goodbye, then off he did stride
Toward the end of his Romany road.

CH

11. A PICTURE OF YOU AND ME
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1990s

I was rummaging round in the kitchen today
In search of some money I'd hidden away
When I found an old photograph there in the drawer
Taken some years back but when I'm not sure.
A picture of you and me
And it stirred up some old memories.
We must have been just twenty two, twenty three
But even back then you looked younger than me.

CH:
And I just can't believe
What the years have been doing to me
Take a look at us now and I think you'll agree
The years have been kinder to you
Than to me.

I look at you now and I'm simply amazed
You don't look any older, you scarcely have changed
Your face is so young and your eyes they do shine,
Perhaps there's just one or two more laughter lines.
And I can't help wondering
How you've stayed so slender and slim
Your body is ever so youthful and trim
Must be that stuff that you rub in your skin.

CH

I look in the mirror and what do I see?
This elderly stranger is looking at me
With his tired old eyes and his beard of grey
And a face that has certainly seen better days.
Yes a face that looks battered and bruised
A body that's been badly used,
Those thousands of cigarettes, gallons of booze.
Too many late nights waiting up for the Muse.

CH

12. JACK OF HAWTHORN
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1990's

See Hawthorn Bay, the blackened rock, the withered grass, the sand so dark and grey
In Hawthorn Bay the wind howls off the North Sea all the night and all the day
And here upon this blasted land a hermit man once stayed
In a driftwood shack a driftwood man named Jack lived his life away.

CH:
Jack of Hawthorn lived down here from the ending of the war
How could a man live all those years upon this feral shore
Upon this feral shore.

We made our way down through the ferny valley and across the shattered bay
With offerings, a ball of string, a tin of beans, a can of paraffin
Jack told us tales of when he'd sailed the seven seas around
But it was not true, no we all knew he'd been a miner in the ground.

CH

Us kids we grew, left childish things behind, moved on as people have to do
I once returned to seek old Jack, that driftwood shack and then it was I learned
Well meaning Welfare people came and put him in a home
He lived a week, died in his sleep, they say he died of being warm.

CH

The years they raced, Spring tides rolled up and washed away all knowledge of that place
There is no trace that Jack lived in his little shack with the wind upon his face
Driftwood comes and driftwood goes upon the tidal race
Old Jack has gone, the tide rolls on, the dark wind still howls off the waves.

CH

13. THE SAILORS' EARRING
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1970s (I think)

As I went out one morning to take the ocean breeze
I spied a gallant sailor lad a-standing at the quay
And dressed in blue and white he was and as I drew quite near
I saw he wore a little golden ring upon his ear.
Now come you gallant sailor lad, I'm longing for to hear
Why do you wear that little golden ring upon your ear
He said my lad it means that I am married to the sea
And all the while I wear this ring she'll never murder me

CH:
But heed my warning well, What e'er your life may bring
Be sure you never have to wear a sailors' golden ring.

For she also is my gaoler, my prison is the sea
She's a hard and cruel mistress and she'll never set me free
So It's more than just a ring my lad, I wear so faithfully
'Tis the first link in the chain my lad that ties me to the sea.

CH

Now heed my words and heed them well, he took me by the hand
Never go to sea he said but stay here on the land
And marry to some farmers girl and love her faithfully
And never heed the call you'll hear from off the briny sea.
Yes

CH

14. DUSTY GREY
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 21st century

It’s the winding of the road and it’s the rolling of the hills
And what could be round the corner that keeps me roving still.
I have tried to settle down once or twice now and then
But some reason does persuade me to take the road again.

Like that misty wispy day when I met that lass so fair
And the damp moisty mist made little diamonds in her hair.
With her dark flashing eyes, oh she stole this heart away
And I left the road behind to court that lovely Dusty Grey.

CH:
Dusty Grey, Dusty Grey
Well I swear I fell in love on that misty twisty day
Dusty Grey, Dusty Grey sweet heart
Even though you would not have me
I still love you Dusty Grey.

Now me name is Jimmy Wragg and in that name there lies the rub
Dusty said she could not have me, even though she should.
‘I can’t marry you sweet Jim and it makes me oh so sad
But I’ll not travel through this life with the name of Dusty Rag’.

CH

Wragg’s me name and I’ll not change it, not for anyone on Earth,
‘Tis the good name of me family and the proud name of me birth
So how we sighed and we cried as we kissed goodbye, and then,
With a shruggin’ of me shoulders I took the road again.

CH