Lyr Req: Songs by Mike Absalom

Subject: Mike Absalom
From: GUEST,Ian Taylor
Date: 15 Nov 00 - 08:12 PM

Does anyone have the lyrics/chords to some of Mike Absalom's quirky songs eg WPC Sadie Stick, Hector the Dope Sniffing Hound, Natasha the Flasher? I've e-mailed the great man via his website but got no response. Please help. Ian

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Mike Absalom
From: GUEST,CraigS
Date: 15 Nov 00 - 09:29 PM

The first album is available on CD. I 'll see if I can remember enough of the songs from "Hector, and other pecadilloes" to post the words. I think I can do Sadie Stick, Flasher Jack, and possibly Hector(I lent the album to a friend in 1974, and I haven't seen either since). The "chords" are not simple, as the tunes are mainly fast chord progressions, but I can point you in the right direction.

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Mike Absalom
From: Lanfranc
Date: 16 Nov 00 - 09:52 AM

Now, there's a name from the past!

Mike used to be a fairly regular visitor to the London Troubadour during my tenure as resident '69-'72.

The thing I remember him most for was a long intro involving the part of speech "synecdoche" = "making the part stand for the whole". I'll leave it to your imagination as to how he elaborated on the definition!

Where is he now, is he still alive?

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Mike Absalom
From: Musicman
Date: 16 Nov 00 - 11:59 AM

Yes, if it's the same Mike Absolom, Paraguain harp, troubadour, concertina player, performer... etc. He is alive and kicking living in Maple Ridge, BC. I know him, have done some playing with him around the vancouver area. I will contact him and see about the songs......

Subject: Lyr Add: THE SAGA OF SUZY GRAPEVINE AND PUSHER JOE
From: GUEST,CraigS
Date: 16 Nov 00 - 07:32 PM

Mike was last heard of back in Yorkshire, "under the influence of everything drop-able" (to quote the man himself). Tetley's bitter has a lot to answer for - including

THE SAGA OF SUZY GRAPEVINE AND PUSHER JOE
Mike Absalom

Outside a rich apartment in a luxury hotel,
Suzy Grapevine hesitated, reaching for the bell.
"Before this night is over, there's a thing I must complete.
I know it's going to hurt me, but you know it hurts so sweet."
Benzedrine, you'll never win. You'll do me in, Benzedrine.

In his fifteenth-storey penthouse, Joe Bananas turned to see
Who was ringing at his bell at thirteen minutes past three.
"Is that Suzy Grapevine? Tell me, what you mean?
Have you come to beg, or come to buy my Benzedrine?"
Benzedrine, you'll never win. You'll do me in, Benzedrine.

"Well, I need some, Joe," said Suzy, "but I haven't any bread."
Joe said, "Then you need some like a hole right through your head.
You've used up all your chances, Suzy, all that you will get.
When Suzy Grape is sober, now they call her Grape Suzette."
Benzedrine, you'll never win. You'll do me in, Benzedrine.

"In that case, Joe..." said Suzy, her handbag open wide.
She pulled out a black revolver and she shot him in the side.
She shot him in the stomach. She shot him in the head,
And she pushed him out the window to make sure that he was dead.
Benzedrine, you'll never win. You'll do me in, Benzedrine.

Constable Maclagan, renowned for taking bribes,
Was beating up a student as the police code prescribes.
Down behind the apartment he heard an awful crash.
He didn't wait to finish. He was off there like a flash.
Benzedrine, you'll never win. You'll do me in, Benzedrine.

"Well I smell fuzz," said Suzy. "That's just what I need.
But I shall make my getaway, 'cause all I need is speed."
She jumped out of the window. Escape was in her head,
But as she passed the thirteenth floor, this is what she said:
"Benzedrine, you'll never win. You'll do me in, Benzedrine."

Down she went, bouncing off the window ledges, and the little concrete gargoyles put there by the Notting Hill Housing Trust.
Down, down, down, down, down,
Suzy Grapevine was going down for the first time in her life.

Splat!

Listen to me, people. You've all got time to spend.
This story has no moral. It just has an end.
Kill yourselves with Benzedrine, with bullets, or with scotch,
But tell me when you do it so that I can come and watch.
Benzedrine, you'll never win. You'll do me in, Benzedrine.

HTML line breaks added. --JoeClone, 29-Jul-02.

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Mike Absalom
From: GUEST,CraigS
Date: 16 Nov 00 - 07:37 PM

NB: INSPECTOR MacLagan was on TV about ten years ago as a spokesman for Scotland Yard; I don't know if he's retired yet, but he's getting a bit more important, and since he features in most of these silly songs that may be why they aren't commonly available. Opps, must go - the "Funny People" are knocking on my door.

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Mike Absalom
From: Musicman
Date: 16 Nov 00 - 11:47 PM

Ian...

I spoke with mike today........ He mentioned getting the email.... and hopefully will be checking the thread here... I gave him directions....

He is just in the process of moving to a farm outside of Vancouver about 1 hour away.... so he's a bit preoccupied. I will see what I can do about getting some of the lyrics for you or getting him to answer directly. may take a week or two though......

Musicman

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Mike Absalom
From: GUEST,Ian Taylor
Date: 17 Nov 00 - 09:00 PM

Hi guys thanks for the responses. I got a reply to the e-mail to Mike himself, but only a list of CDs for sale. I'm happy to send for them, but that will take a while and I really wanted to do some of his stuff at a gig at the end of this month. I'd forgotten 'Benzadrine' that was the other 'classic' I remember singing alomg to at Sunderland Poly in the 70s. Thanks. I really want Sadie STick lyrics though - can we piece them together - I can only really remember the chorus: "WPC Sadie Stick, hit me again with your big black stick I'll have a word with you when I find my dic-tionary". Jog any memories? For other long lost fans, Mike's website is at http://website.lineone.net/~absalom/ Ian

Subject: Lyr Add: HECTOR THE DOPE-SNIFFING HOUND (M Absalom
From: Musicman
Date: 02 Dec 00 - 11:21 AM

ok Ian..... here's one......(he's finally getting organized) more to follow soon I hope........

HECTOR THE DOPE-SNIFFING HOUND. c.Mike Absalom 1970

Hector the Dope-Sniffing Hound
Used to be seen around town
With Inspectors and Pigs, he was one of the Bigs:
A bark from that narc sent you down!

One night they were casing a joint.
On point duty Hector did point
At the small herbal fag. Then he took a sly drag,
Saying: Bow wow........WOW!.... What's the point!

Chorus:

Now amoung the butterflies and flies he flies,
Closing his eyes,
Ladybirds and beetles passing him by.
Lazy days and summer ways, skies corn flower blue;
Hectore defector, frollicking in the dew!

Hector the Dope-Sniffing Hound
Was out through the door in a bound.
Now he wanders at large shouting out: What's the charge:
Afghan Black or Mongolian Brown?

Hector the Dope-Sniffing Hound
Was the most dogmatic dog in the pound.
But now he's a drop-out. His eyes nearly pop out,
Going round and around and around.

(CHORUS)

His number was PC K-9,
But now he's smashed all the time.
Under floorboards and mats he goes chasing cats
Instead of unearthing Cocaine.

Hector the Dope-Sniffing Hound
Has recently gone underground.
He's the only coyote who's dropped pure peyote
Hector the Dope Sniffing Hound.

(CHORUS)

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Mike Absalom
From: Peter K (Fionn)
Date: 02 Dec 00 - 12:20 PM

Did he do one featuring mushrooms and Devonshire cream and their regurgitation?

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Mike Absalom
From: Musicman
Date: 03 Dec 00 - 12:56 PM

no idea myself........ Ian might know..... trying to get mike interested in the mudcat.... not that he's not interested, just very busy right now with moving and giging..

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Mike Absalom
From: GUEST
Date: 17 Mar 14 - 05:30 AM

I`m in contact with Mike via Facebook. He admits that he never wrote down the lyrics to some of his songs.
All you can do is play tracks with a fing on the pause button and write the words down - tedious but th3e only way as I still can`t find a site that has some of his songs.

Subject: Lyr Add: LET ME GIVE YOU ROSES, ROSE (M Absalom)
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 18 Mar 14 - 12:50 PM

I heard this on Spotify. You can also hear it on YouTube. This is my transcription. His tendency to spread one syllable over two or more notes compelled me to invent some bizarre spellings.


LET ME GIVE YOU ROSES, ROSE
As sung by Mike Absalom on "Mike Absalom" (1971)

Let me give you roses, Rose Marie,
Even though you are so prick-a-ly [prickly].
Cactus is ... [unintelligible]
Let me bring you roses, Ro-wo-woze [Rose].

I know where you're at by the plants you picks,
Acting like an addict with an idée fixe.
You've been out collecting where the morning glory glows.
Let me bring you roses, Rose.

I know that you've been eating mushrooms.
Can't be too mush room in your head,
'Cause you halloo-halloo-hallucinate
When you should be watching me instead.

Let me bring you roses, Rose Marie,
Rearrange your yes-and-noes.
Forget-me-nots is soon forgot.
Let me bring you roses, Rose.

You've been dibble-dabbling in zen,
And those old black magic spells again,
Dandelion cooking; yes, it shows.
Let me bring you roses, Ro-wo-woze [Rose].

Yesterday you tried to read my palm.
Today you're nearly halfway up my arm.
It's a crystal balls-up; that's the way it goes.
Let me bring you roses, Rose.

I don't begrudge you mescaline or psilocybin
Before you go to bed,
But do you really have to bring a tri-yibe [tribe] in
To prove you are a hea-ea-ead [head]?

Let me bring you roses, Rose Marie.
Rearrange your status quos.
Ev'rybody says we're a prick-a-ly [prickly] pair.
Let me bring you roses, Rose.

Ev'rybody says we're a prick-a-ly [prickly] pair.
Let me bring you roses, Rose.

Subject: Lyr Add: SAGA OF ERNIE PLUGG'S BUST (Mike Absalom)
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 18 Mar 14 - 04:03 PM

A comic strip based on this song, and containing the lyrics, can be seen at Mike Absalom's website. You can hear the song at YouTube (in addition to Spotify).


THE SAGA OF ERNIE PLUGG'S BUST
As sung by Mike Absalom on "Mike Absalom" (1971)

1. Sunday morning, our story so far:
Ma was feeling a bit below par.
Pa was feeling a bit below Ma as well.
Suddenly mother said:
"Father dear, get out of that bed.
I thought I heard somebody knocking at the bell."
Standing in the hall among the potted plants,
They saw a big detective constable advance.
"Mister and Mrs Aloysius Plugg,
We've got your son down in the jug.
Arrested him on a narcotics charge."

2. Well, the story's tragic and it's sad.
There was a barmaid and her name was Glad.
Let me tell you about the bloke she dug. (Dig, dig, dig.)
She worked down at the Brace and Bit.
Although she was a brazen bit,
She had a man; his name was Ernie Plugg.
With his great big boots and his tartan braces,
He like to beat up freaks and other races,
But this night he'd given Gladys thrills,
Brought her plastic daffodils
Stolen from the Brompton Cemet'ry.

3. Now Shooter lived up in "The Gate."
Man, I don't exaggerate.
He overdid all you could overdo.
Well, he popped pills; he sniffed glue,
Tried inhaling Harpic too.
It nearly sent him round the bend; that's true.
That night he'd been out to score some shit.
He was far, far gone when he reached the Brace and Bit.
He wandered in; he stood quite still
'Cause he saw the plastic daffodils
And he said: "Oh, man! Them blossoms turn me on."

4. Well they looked him up; they looked him down.
Gladys said: "I like your gown"
And Ernie said: "Well, you can have it, Glad." (Gladly!)
He picked up Shooter by the hair
And stripped him till he hung there bare,
And Shooter said: "Oh, man! This strip is bad."
He turned quite green, and shuddering with fright,
He went and ran out naked in the night,
And Ernie said: "Let's try it first."
He put it on, then in there burst
MacLagan and the drug squad through the door.

5. MacLagan said: "Don't be afraid.
It's just another routine raid.
If no one breathes, no one will get hurt.
We'll start with Joseph and his coat."
And seizing Ernie by the throat,
He ripped his pockets out and tore his shirt.
Then he smiled and said: "Hello, hello, hello!
What's all this then? Aspirins, I suppose."
And he tripped him up and kicked his face.
Said: "Sorry to disturb your inner space,
But what you need, my lad, is a rest. (You're under arrest.)"

6. Sunday evening at the Plugg's,
Father blames the curse of drugs.
Pa is drunk; Ma is tranquilized.
Ernie's got six months in jail.
Glad is left to tell the tale.
By the plastic daffodils she cries.
Father blames the younger generation:
"Ain't got no bloody respect or veneration!"
Sunday evening at the bar,
Ma is feeling a bit below par.
Pa is feeling Gladys all over now.

SPOKEN: He's feeling glad it's all over now!

Subject: Lyr Add: ECCLESIASTICAL CHEESECAKE WALK (M Absalom
From: GUEST,crater52
Date: 22 Nov 16 - 12:19 PM

I do this and The Saga of the Ancient Briton (more later) as monologues rather than songs 'cos I couldn't work out the chords.

ECCLESIASTICAL CHEESECAKE WALK

When Mrs. Fanshaw fantasized things often got romanticized.
There was, for those who liked the rock cake, no bolder cook.
By grave mistake she put cement dust in the spice and Fanshaw said, "It's very nice."
And ground his teeth and coughed and sighed and very soon thereafter died.

Now though England's a pagan land some citizens still make a stand.
While Fanshaw's faith was lapsed R.C. his wife was Christmas C. of E.
Yet down the years she had forgot what an RC was
And what funerary pomps were meet and which were poison for her sweet.

A representative of Rome was summoned quickly to the home
To explain the Catholic rights and wrongs and do's and don'ts and mays and mights.
Father Ignatius twenty-nine not only godly but divine.
Within minutes of the time he met her she found love at first sight in a biretta.

Unchecked by ultramontane guilt her love ran wild and at full tilt.
From that day forth she planned full spate to swallow up this celibate.
The very night her spouse chose to knock off in, she danced with glee upon his coffin
And by his box was not a dirge she sang but praises for the clergy.

With an ardour mostly found in latins Mrs. F. turned up at mass and matins
And, from the second row of pews, tried to communicate her views.
Rattling her rosary, in her best clothes and hosiery,
With sad unconsummated sighs Mrs. F. unfrocked him with her eyes.

Her fantasies began to grow. She thought she'd die she loved him so.
What a man so strong and chaste. What a chest, oh what a waste.
If he could only leave his pedestal and clasp her close or even better still
Inflamed with lust and satyriasis, chase her naked 'round the diocese.

But Mrs. Fanshaw's guile and gaiety, though it might have laid the laity,
Sometimes coy, sometimes salacious, never did ignite Ignatius.
Her passion always animated blew up one Sunday when he stated,
"Today I have this news to dish up. I'm leaving to become a bishop."

Mrs. Fanshaw blanched. Mrs. Fanshaw paled. Mrs. Fanshaw cried. Mrs. Fanshaw wailed:
"My love won't die. My love won't cease. How can he leave the diocese?"
She didn't even get a kick from thinking of his bishopric.
"A fallacy," she said "That's it," and threw a most unpleasant fit.

They saw her raise her head and shake it. No truth had ever seemed so naked.
Since Adam's first defoliation, no Buddha or other holy asian
Could have calmed the rage that boiled up in her breast now she was foiled.
Voicing vulgar unromanticals she kicked him soundly in the canticles.

The congregation rose in wrath to avenge this insult to the cloth.
Not lacking for a precedent, to burn her at the stake they went.
Hymn books and psalters soon caught fire. They threw her screaming on the pyre.
And she remained, though quickly slaked, ever afterwards half-baked.

Subject: Lyr Add: SAGA OF THE ANCIENT BRITON (Mike Absalom)
From: GUEST
Date: 22 Nov 16 - 12:30 PM

Here are the lyrics to The Saga of the Ancient Briton. I have some of his golden oldies on vinyl (oh yes!) which I bought from Mike when he played at my Poly in the early seventies. I can transcribe most of them given the chance. But I'll also have a stab at Sadie Stick (from memory) for those who are interested.

SAGA OF THE ANCIENT BRITON – Mike Absalom

I woke up this evening, I was feeling blue
It wasn't all that surprising, I'm an ancient Briton
Who takes pride in his appearance, I indulge in every nouveau vague.
I don't argue

With the leaders of the Druids, Cos even if they knowed
That I think I have to bear a far too heavy woad
When they send me to battle down by the Roman road.
They don't argue, I don't argue,
You don't argue with druids

I got up and went outside, a stranger was about
It was a Roman in the gloamin' and he gave an awful shout
When I whipped off me fig leaf and I flashed meself about.
He didn't argue

I ain't got a secret weapon. It's there for all to see
And in my turquoise birthday suit I'm blue from head to knee
And when the village maidens see it, they invite me up for tea.
I don't argue

Now Merlin was a plumber, but he had got on quite far
He was an honorary druid appointed by Queen Boudicca
He was devious and shifty, as used khazi dealers are.
One didn't argue with Merlin

When he heard about the Roman he looked shifty and he hissed,
'The time has come to rid our land of the imperialist.'
He jumped about as if possessed; I think that he was pissed.
I didn't argue

He said, 'Now take this liquid, put it in their aqueduct,
It's made from special mushrooms that I meself have plucked.
Aay when the Romans drink it they'll be rightly screwed up.'
I didn't argue. Didn't think much of his poetry though.

Well I was going through the forest when whom should I see there
But a beautiful camp-follower a-camping in the air
And she said hello sailor, would you like to see me bare
I didn't argue. I love animals

Now being on a mission, I should have had more sense,
But the sight of her proportions made me lower my defence,
For I have heard with campers the excitement is in tents.
I didn't argue

As we lay down a voice said, 'what you doing with my wife?'
And I said, 'just the usual,' then a Roman stuck a knife
Halfway up me fundament, I shouted, 'Spare me life,
An' all.'
He didn't argue

He said, 'You're for Londinium, where you will have to face
Trial by a cross section of the Roman populace.
They'll be cross enough to crucify you in the market place.
They don't argue in Londinium

I was a manacled depressive, then I had an idea
I said, 'You must be weary soldier, have some British beer.'
And I pulled out Merlin's bottle. He said, 'You are a dear.'
I didn't argue

So he took off me handcuffs and we sat down on the grasses
And his bird pulled out a corkscrew and three plastic army glasses
And I said, 'cheers! Strange how quickly one's life passes.'
He didn't argue

He said, 'I'll drink to that, cos I wish I was at home.
Or even on the continent, where all roads lead to Rome.
But till you lot join the market, I'm stuck in this battle zone.
I didn't argue

Well we was sitting there and drinking and it wasn't very late,
When suddenly the ground turned pink and began to undulate.
The Roman turned to me and said, 'Was it something that we ate?'
I didn't argue.
I couldn't argue

Suddenly I began to understand the true meaning of life
And the nature of the Universe
At last I .....understood.

Well, we thank you druid Merlin for your mushroom soup with weed in
Cos man, now I know where it's at, I'm through with tears, sweat and bleeding
Me and the Roman's getting political asylum up in Sweden.

They don't argue up there

Peace Brothers.

Subject: Lyr Add: WPC SADIE STICK (Mike Absalom)
From: GUEST,crater52
Date: 22 Nov 16 - 01:26 PM

It seems strange now that, back in the day, the idea of someone blowing themselves up was considered a subject for humour. How times have changed!

WPC SADIE STICK

They say she ate to satiate a need for love.
She was a breed above the average policewoman.
WPC Sadie Stick, big and round and fat and thick,
Eighteen Stone with a hairy lip – Oh brother!
MacLagan hankered after her with hankering and grief,
And frequently when drunk he'd sing behind his handkerchief.
'WPC Sadie Stick, hit me again with your big black stick.
I'll have a word with you when I find my dic-tionary.'

The night of the policeman's ball Maclagan met her in the hall.
He said, 'Hello, Hello...Hello, hello.
She turned and looked him in the face as friendly as a can of mace,
and said, 'Are you someone that I know?'
'Is it the gay lothario? Is it Don Giovanni?
Don't drop your balls into my court, you nasty little many.'
'WPC Sadie Stick, hit me again with your big black stick.
I'll have a word with you when I find my dic-tionary.'

When a bust is dammed a dam is bust.
Giving Sadie up for lust MacLagan said: "It's hard to hold yer own!"
Sadie Sadie, I would like to stick my finger in the dyke.
I'll drown of love if you leave me here alone.
Drunk on an empty head, he sought the porcine porcelain,
And as he groped his drunken way they heard this sad refrain:
'WPC Sadie Stick, hit me again with your big black stick.
I'll have a word with you when I find my dic-tionary.'

Meanwhile back in Notting Hill the moon showed up like a Mandrax pill
In the sky, so high; like everybody.
Bomber Dinah with delight stuffed her bra with gelignite
She's a booby trap just for tonight and noddy.
Back in the sweaty ballroom things were swinging.
As she cased the place she heard MacLagan singing,
'WPC Sadie Stick, hit me again with your big black stick.
I'll have a word with you when I find my dic-tionary.'

Behind the wall, Dinah unseen laid bare her bulging magazine,
When suddenly MacLagan did appear. He muttered, 'Is this where the gents is?'
Then a vision pierced his drunken senses; big and bold beautiful and bare!
'It must be Sadie half undressed, if she was French she'd be from Brest,
I always did like Bristols best. I love you!
WPC Sadie Stick, hit me again with your big black stick.
I'll have a word with you when I find my dic-tionary.'

Dinah was not like other girls, she had a twin-set but no pearls.
She shouted, 'Kill the Pigs!'. And then exploded
MacLagan took off through the air wrapped in a red hot brassiere.
He said, 'I did not know the girl was loaded.'
A satellite was set alight high in the London sky.
As it tumbled over Notting Hill, you could hear it cry,
'WPC Sadie Stick, hit me again with your big black stick.
I'll have a word with you when I find my dic-tionary.'