The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #3746   Message #19364
Posted By: Ezio
17-Jan-98 - 02:43 AM
Thread Name: LYR ADD: No-Go
Subject: LYR ADD: No-Go

NO-GO

(Poem: Louis McNiece, Music: Trad. Arr. Seàn Tyrrell)

No go merry-go-round
No go the rickshaw
All we want is a limousine
And a ticket for the peep-show,
Their knickers are made of crepe-de-Chine
Their boots are made from python
Their halls are lined with tiger rugs
And their walls with heads of bison.


Johnny McDonald found a corpse
He put it under the sofa
He waited 'til it came to life
He hit it with a poker
Sold its eyes as souvenirs
Sold his blood for whiskey
Kept its bones to use for dumbells
When he was fifty.
And it's no go the yogi man
No go Blavatski
All we went is a black balance
And a bit of skirt and a taxi.


Annie McDonald she went to milk
She caught her foot in the heater
She awoke to hear a dance record
Playing old Vienna.
No go your maidenheads
No go your culture
All we want is a Dunlop tyre
And the devil mend the puncture.


The Laird of Phelps spent Hogmanay
Declaring he was sober
Count his feet to prove the fact
Found he has one foot over.
Mrs Charmichael she had her fifth
Viewed the job with repulsion
She said to the mid-wife take it away
I'm through with over-production.
And it's no go the gossip column
No go the ceilidh
All we want is a mother's help
And a sugar stick for the baby.
Willie Murray cut his thumb
And he couldn't count the damage
He took the hide of an Ayreshire cow
He made it into a bandage
His brother caught three hundred cran
When the seas were lavish
He threw the bleeders back in the sea
An' he went upon the parish.


And it's no go the herring board
It's no go the Bible
All we want is a package of fags
When our hands are idle.
It's no go the picture palace
No go the stadium
It's no go your country cottage
With your pot of pink geraniums.
No go the government grants
No go the elections
Sit on your arse for fifty years
And hang your hat on a pension.
And it's no go my honey love
It's no go my poppet
Work your hands from day to day
The winds will blow the profit
The glass is falling hour by hour
The glass will fall forever
But if you break the bloody glass
You won't hold up the weather.

Sung by Seàn Tyrrell on "Cry of a dreamer" (1995)