Beggar's Oil EP (2002) - paroles

[kjp]

Beggar's Oil

A mustard seed is (has been said)
All that men will need
A filthy boy in a bowery lane
Under the times in a drowning rain
Stealing bits of sleep again
Has heard this comon creed

Grows into the tallest tree
To cool down the sinner's heat
I know this man, he's much like I
A doubter's cusp, a braggart's pyre
Sweltering in brandy-mire
And selling bitter meat

Exemplary of faith I guess
Starts with naught but soil
Upon the shoes of wayward men
Ministers will not befriend
Smite the temple yet again
Spill their precious oil

I've thrown my seed out the window
Down in the dirt below
I'll water it with my distrust
My blatant well-worn rough-hewn crust
I'll mojo it with voodoo dust
And pray that it will grow




Tommy

Tommy had a watch, a good kind of watch
It wouldn't tell time if you asked it
Didn't have a face, just an ear and an eye
To see him with

Tommy stole candy from the cornerstore
And gave it to the mice he built a home for
By the side of the heater, next to his guitar
That he could neither play nor destroy

Tommy wrote a letter to the office of iniquity
Demanding a history of his actions
But the letter was returned just 2 days gone
There was no office of iniquity

Tommy couldn't see so well and he didn't have a radio
He'd talk to himself in different voices
Or sing to himself in a Russian dialect
Invented on a Sunday afternoon

Tommy stole a limp and he borrowed a demeanor
So he'd scare anybody who'd want to talk away
'Cause they frightened him so bad that he'd pee down his legs
As he tried, very hard, to find the words

Tommy wore the helmet of a frustrated miner
Digging for words as though gold
Standing in the mud in his dark gray fedora
Wearing his knee-patched dungarees

Tommy was alone when the fire started
High behind the wheel of a colt 45
With a clip full of ether and a bucket full of gas
And a belly full of turpentine

Tommy made sure there was no one in danger
By knocking on each door like a madman
Then he locked himself in and did the whirling dervish
Tipped the candle over on the floor

Tommy fell asleep before the diremen came
Which was good because they scared him anyway
All that they found were the mice inside the fridge
In a box, with some cheese
And a handwarmer, run on batteries

Tommy was a good man. Nobody Knew
Tommy was a good man. Nobody Knew




Don Quixote's Windmill

Jenny keep the closet warm
I'll need somewhere to hide
Bees are swarming around my head
Digging in my side
They laugh and taunt and prod me
Tear at the walls around me
Here in my eternal shell
I laugh like bloody murderous hell

Jenny keep the coal fire on
I need somewhere to dry
Had to swim the river cross
With a poker in my eye
Flashing still contingency
Waved for me to go
I hit the shore then in a rage
Swing at a shadow in a monkey's cage

Jenny keep the window down
Until you hear me moan
Light the candle quickly
Then welcome me back home
I'll make sure not to say to you
Those dark and thundering clouds are through
That I have met escape this time
All is well and we'll be fine

Jenny keep the covers up
Bathe in winter sleep
I be among the curs of war
Rife with battles deep
The fight will be a furious one
The outcome surely curious
Don Quixote's Windmill cease to desecrate
My will for peace




Frankenstein Party Of Three: Your Table Is Ready

I'll trim the sea with envy
Bounce the martyr from the ship
Tread on the bridge plank Merceyside*
With a slow and graceful clip
Sorrows of Young Werther**
Lying between the bread
And I'll sup and dine with Frankenstein
Until I loose my head

It was a lovely simple thing
Twisted up her countenance
Pledge her honor to the ground
While choosing for the dance
The unsuspecting blue-faced lads
Soon to chase their minds
With red-tipped canes and bridled dogs
Lap the muddy brine

The bridge is green
Across a river brown
Seperates the sides
Runs down to the ocean
Fighting with the mighty tides
Like Lucy and the carnivour
Tug on a piece of meat
Knuckle scrape across her shirt
And down into the street

Knock heed and warning, brother man
Roll your shoes up tight
Grab the switch with both cold hands
And stare into the light
Close your eyes and feign to weep
To seal the stronger reign
Rest assured your trinkled thought
Will spring straight back again

I will trim the sea with envy
Bounce the martyr from the ship
I will draw the bridge plank Merseyside*
With a slow and graceful clip
Sorrows of young Werther**
Lying between the bread
And I'll sup and dine with Frankenstein
Until I loose my head

* city in NW England
** "Sorrows of Young Werther" is a book by Goethe




Beggar's Oil

A mustard seed is (has been said)
All that men will need
A filthy boy in a bowery lane
Under the times in a drowning rain
Stealing bits of sleep again
Has heard this comon creed

Grows into the tallest tree
To cool down the sinner's heat
I know this man, he's much like I
A doubter's cusp, a braggart's pyre
Sweltering in brandy-mire
And selling bitter meat

Exemplary of faith I guess
Starts with naught but soil
Upon the shoes of wayward men
Ministers will not befriend
Smite the temple yet again
Spill their precious oil

I've thrown my seed out the window
Down in the dirt below
I'll water it with my distrust
My blatant well-worn rough-hewn crust
I'll mojo it with voodoo dust
And pray that it will grow




Lass Of Loch Royale (If I prove False To Thee)
(traditional)

I'm going away to a far distant land
I'm going away for a while
But I'll return to you my love
I'll go ten thousand miles

The sun will dry up the ocean
Heavens will cease to be
The world will lose it's motion
If I prove false to thee

Oh who's gonna shoe your pretty little feet
Who's gonna glove your hand
Who's gonna kiss your sweet ruby lips
When I'm in a foreign land

Father will shoe my feet
Mother will glove my hand
You can kiss my sweet ruby lips
If you return again

Who's gonna comb your long yellow hair
Who's gonna pay your fee
Who's gonna father those sweet little babes
While I'm on a raging sea

Mother will comb my hair
Father will pay my fee
There'll be no sweet little babes
While you're away from me

The sun will dry up the ocean
Heavens will cease to be
The world will lose it's motion
If I prove false to thee

Night and wind go tell my sailor boy
I'll still wait in the dell*

I would long to feel his warm embrace
On this lass of Loch Royale

The sun will dry up the ocean
Heavens will cease to be
The world will lose it's motion
If I prove false to thee

* or 'dale' (valley)