My poem by Scene Red from the album Shining Through The Trees, available for download on Bandcamp.
Tag Archives: harry rogers
THE HAND HOLDING BOYS OF ORLANDO
Another demo from the archive recorded in 2018 at
Sandy Springs, Atlanta, Georgia with my good friend Steve Baird. This lyric is about the awful mass shooting in 2016 at the Pulse gay club in Orlando Florida and the politicians of the day responses.
THE HAND HOLDING BOYS OF ORLANDO
I don’t see beauties as we drive on by
Cow parsley and foxgloves in the hedgerow
My eyes are still filled with tears as I cry
For the hand holding boys of Orlando
On TV Donald says he will ensure
That no terrorists come from the get go
Utters no words to the hacks on the floor
For the hand holding boys of Orlando
Hillary says that she’ll stop everyone
The police have questioned and then let go
Buying and owning assault rifle guns
For the hand holding boys of Orlando
Only Bernie has stood up in public
From Washington to Maine and Ohio
Sharing grief and sympathy in his shtick
For the hand holding boys of Orlando
The sun sets on the gun laws still standing
Bigots and shock jocks across radio
Spread hatred, lies and misunderstanding
For the handholding boys of Orlando
If I could I would travel back in time
To that club where gay men and their friends go
Take the gun from the one who did that crime
For the handholding boys of Orlando
Harry Rogers, in the hut, july 2016
Please share widely.
WHERE BLUEBELLS BLOOM
Looking through old demo tracks I came across this version of one of my songs recorded with Marc Gordon at Studio 49 in Narberth in 2013 for our album of love songs “Ripples In The Water Of Love”. The song title was suggested to me by my old friend Colin Bodiam at Deep River Records in Depford, London. The Lyric is set in County Cork, Eire not far from Skibbereen.
On the road to Barlogie Cove
With an old friend of mine
I drive past that house of yours
That overlooks Lough Hyne
We’re off to empty lobster pots
On his old clinker boat
I hear a single seagull sing
A very plaintive note
You’re sitting in the window
Of that upstairs room
You look with longing at that
Hill where bluebells bloom
That hill
Where bluebells bloom
That hill
Where bluebells bloom
Where you took me in the springtime
Through the woodland glade so blue
To the summit of your universe
And swore that you were true
I see that his flash car is back
Parked up in the drive
The way that I was feeling
He’s lucky to be alive
I guess that I’ll keep driving
Down to Barlogie Quay
And let all of last year’s fantasies
Fade into memory
I hope you’ll not be crying
In your lonely room
As you look out that window
Onto Knockomagh Hill
There where bluebells bloom!
Harry Rogers in the Old Study 2012
Please share widely.
TWADDLE TALK
This piece of performance poetry was recorded by The Chilly Dogz in 2010 at Red Kite Studios in Llanwrda. Words by Harri Rogers, Guitar by Marc Gordon. Still valid today as a critique of management speak.
TWADDLE TALK
Your office door is always open, I hear you on the phone
Run it up the flag pole, Give the dog a bone
It’s a nice little earner, Kick it in the long grass
Stick it on the back burner , We’re gonna whup their ass
I hear what you say
I don’t like what you do
I wish you’d go away
Cos I can’t stand you
You say you’re building your team
But things aint quite what they seem
Sharing Mars Bars in the Mendips, Where the glasses are half full
It’s all singing and dancing, In the best of both worlds
So throw me a bone, Give me a break
The buck stops here, Let’s cut to the chase
Gotta ramp it up, cos you’re off your face.
I hear what you say
I don’t like what you do,
I wish you’d go away,
‘Cos I can’t stand you
You’re a legend in your own lunchtime,
But I know where your bodies are buried,
So gather up your parrots and monkeys,
Take those skeletons out of your closet, and clear your fucking desk
Stop talking twaddle and GIVE US ALL A REST
Harry Rogers, in the old study, Aberbanc, 23rd February, 2010
Please share widely.
CALAMITY COMING
An economic calamity comes
Said a radio presenter today,
Watch the Chancellor struggle with his sums,
Quantatively easing pipedreams away.
Rags and calumny fall from Tory lips,
False promises bring incredulity,
From home cooked meals to greasy fish and chips
The lock-down ends without human pity.
We must cram children back in classrooms small,
Labour Lords crawl out from obscurity,
The second wave now looms above us all,
No fiscal vaccine brings immunity.
Theatres are closed but tragedy plays on,
The tinted spectacles are almost gone.
Harry Rogers, In the red bedroom, Sunday 21st June 2020.
Please share widely.
MILLIONS OF BRAZILIANS
Millions of Brazilians
Have witnessed all these scenes before
Paliamentary pantomime
Has locked down everybody’s doors
The army ringed now around London
Stock markets fall down through the floor
There’s no knowing where this leads us
The MPs bluster on, so sure
Their nationalistic reactions
Echoed loudly on radio four
Butterfly show goes on and on
No dreamliners fly anymore
We are told it’s for our own good
For the aged, for the poor
Evoke the spirit of the blitz
Best wishes from second world war
Spout about spiritual health
Whilst televising martial law
Soon round up any dissidents
Is that what this is really for?
Harri Rogers, in the red bedroom, Pencnwau, 19th March 2020
Please share widely.
NaPoWriMo # 18 – An Anti War Song Cycle – OUR LITTLE SOLDIER
“Our Little Soldier” – Twelve song cycle about the futility, agony and ubiquity of war. I hope to record this as an album at some time and also do a couple of performances of it with a few friends.
CONTENTS
1) INTRODUCTION
2) OUR LITTLE SOLDIER
3) BECOME A CADET
4) MEETING MARIA
5) DON’T VOLUNTEER
6) SERGEANT MAJOR GRANDAD
7) THE CHILDREN IN THE QUEUE
8) DYING FOR LOVE
9) SIGNING UP TODAY
10) ALWAYS COMING HOME
11) BOMBARDIER
12) SON
A SOLDIER’S LIFE FROM CHILDHOOD TO DEATH.
1) INTRODUCTION
Open with laid back funereal music playing
Two women standing in the street watching the family leave a house for a funeral, they start talking:-
1st Woman – It’s such a shame ain’t it? He was only just turned twenty.
2nd Woman – I know that’s no age at all really. He was such a good looking boy too, just like his dad.
1st Woman – I can still remember him when he was little, running around in that soldier suit that he got that Christmas when it snowed a lot.
2nd Woman – Yeah, I remember, he was mad for it, I suppose he was kind of destined to be in the Army.
1st Woman – Well it was a family thing I believe, soldiering goes back generations with his family.
2nd Woman – It’s his mother and his girlfriend I feel sorry for.
1st Woman – I know, it seems such a terrible waste of a life……
2nd Woman – They’re leaving now for the funeral, I best be off, see you later.
1st Woman – Yes OK…………see you later………
Music fades as cars start and drive away.
Copyright: Harry Rogers – 1/04/2012
2) OUR LITTLE SOLDIER
IT WAS XMAS MORNING
THE SUN SPARKLED ON THE SNOW
HE WAS FIVE YEARS OLD
THE PILLOW CASE WAS BULGING
AT THE END OF HIS BED
WITH THE BRIGHT WRAPPED PRESENTS
HE WAS SO EXCITED
COULD HARLDY WAIT TO OPEN THEM
HIS MOTHER HAD THE IDEA
WHILST SHE WAS SHOPPING DOWNTOWN
IN THE NEWSAGENT WINDOW
THEY WERE DISPLAYING TOYS FOR BOYS
A SIGN CAUGHT HER EYE
ALL YOU NEED FOR YOUR LITTLE SOLDIER
SHE WAS SO INSPIRED
ALL SHE COULD THINK OF WAS HE”S
OUR LITTLE SOLDIER
OUR LITTLE SOLDIER
HE’S OUR LITTLE SOLDIER BOY
SHE GOT ALL THE FAMILY
TO BUY ALL THE DIFFERENT BITS OF KIT
SHE WRAPPED THEM UP
WHILST DRINKING WINE ON CHRISTMAS EVE
HER LITTLE SOLDIER
OPENED THEM ONE BY ONE BY ONE
THE BOOTS, THE HELMET
THE UNIFORM, GRENADES AND THE GUN
HE DRESSED HIMSELF UP
AND RAN ON DOWN TO BREAKFAST
EVERYONE WAS LAUGHING
AS HE MARCHED ROUND AND ROUND THE ROOM
SALUTED EVERYBODY
WENT ON MANOUVRES ALL AROUND THE HOUSE
SHOOTING AT THE TV
CRAWLING AND HIDING, BLOWING UP THE DOG
AND HIS DAD SAID
THAT’S
OUR LITTLE SOLDIER
OUR LITTLE SOLDIER
HE’S OUR LITTLE SOLDIER BOY
Copyright: Harry Rogers – 05/04/201
3) BECOME A CADET
FROM THE AGE OF EIGHT
OUR LITTLE SOLDIER
PLAYED VIDEO GAMES
STAYING UP TOO LATE
COMMAND AND CONQUER
HIS FAVOURITE REALM
HE RULED THE WORLD
WHEN HE TURNED TWELVE
ONE TIME HIS PAL KEVIN
CALLED BY HIS HOUSE
HE HAD THIS LEAFLET
PICTURING A YOUNG BOY
DRESSED UP IN KHAKI
WITH A FANCY BERET
AND A GOLDEN CAP BADGE
BIG YELLOW WORDS SAID
BECOME A CADET
BECOME A CADET
RIGHT THEN AND THERE
HE BECAME A CADET
HE LEARNED
HOW TO CLEAN A RIFLE
HOW TO READ A MAP
HOW FIRE A MORTAR
HOW TO DRIVE A CHAMP
HOW TO MAKE A BIVOUAC
HOW TO USE A COMPASS
HOW TO MARCH IN TIME
HOW TO MAKE HIS BOOTS SHINE
HOW TO PLAY THE PIPES AND DRUMS
HOW TO SEND A SIGNAL
HOW TO TIE A BANDAGE
AND HOW TO SHOOT A GUN
BECAME A CADET
BECAME A CADET
RIGHT THEN AND THERE
HE BECAME A CADET
Copyright: Harry Rogers – 06/04/2012
4) MEETING MARIA
AFTER SCHOOL ONE DAY
ON HIS WAY BACK FROM CHOIR
HE MET A GIRL HE’D SEEN BEFORE
BUT HE NEVER KNEW HER NAME
HE LOOKED IN HER EYES
AND SHE SMILED AT HIM
THEY AGREED TO MEET UP
LATER THAT EVENING
HE WAS DUE TO GO TO CADETS
BUT HE JUST HAD TO MEET HER
ON TOP OF PLUM PUDDING HILL
WHERE THE GRASS GROWS LONG
THEY SAT CLOSE TO EACH OTHER
SHE WAS HUMMING HER SONG
MEETING MARIA
HER NAME WAS MARIA
HE WAS MEETING MARIA
MEETING MARIA
SHE LIVED IN MERIDIAN FLATS
WITH HER FAMILY FROM CARDIFF
HER MUM WAS A VALLEYS GIRL
HER DAD A JAMAICAN SAILOR
ONE BROTHER, TWO SISTERS
SHE WAS CAUGHT IN THE MIDDLE
HE LOVED HER STRAIGHT AWAY
STOPPED GOING TO CADETS
HIS LIFE WAS ALL CHANGED
SHE LAY BACK IN HIS ARMS
UPON PLUM PUDDING HILL
WHERE THE GRASS GROWS LONG
WITH HER JET BLACK HAIR
GENTLY HUMMING HER SONG
THE BEST THING THAT HAPPENED
WAS MEETING MARIA
HER NAME WAS MARIA
ALWAYS MEETING MARIA
(COPYRIGHT: HARRY ROGERS: 01/05/2012)
5) DON’T VOLUNTEER (song of Maria)
JUST THE OTHER NIGHT
AS I HELD YOU TIGHT
YOU TOLD ME SOMETHING
THAT FILLED ME WITH FRIGHT
AND I CAN’T STOP THINKING
ABOUT HOW IT WOULD FEEL
TO BE LOSING YOU
HOW WOULD IT FEEL
TO BE LOSING YOU?
MY DARLING, MY DEAR
I NEED YOU HERE
HERE BY MY SIDE
I NEED YOU HERE
PLEASE DON’T LEAD
A SOLDIER’S LIFE
I DON’T WANT TO BE
AN ARMY WIFE
SAT IN THE HALL
NEXT TO THE PHONE
WAIT ON YOUR CALL
ALWAYS ALONE
MY DARLING, MY DEAR
I NEED YOU HERE
MY DARLING, MY DEAR
DON’T VOLUNTEER
I’M DOWN ON MY KNEES
I’M BEGGING YOU PLEASE
DON’T BE A BOMBARDIER
PLEASE DON’T VOLUNTEER
Copyright Harry Rogers – 19-04-2012
6) SERGEANT MAJOR GRANDAD
GRANDAD WAS A SERGEANT MAJOR
IN THE BRIGADE OF GUARDS
FOUGHT IN WORLD WAR 11
HAD A CHEST FULL OF MEDALS
SILVER CUPS FOR SHOOTING
PHOTOGRAPHS GALORE
OUR LITTLE SOLDIER
WAS THE APPLE OF HIS EYE
HIS ONLY SON HAD DIED
RUN DOWN BY A CAR
WHEN HE WAS JUST THIRTEEEN
OUR LITLLE SOLDIER TOOK HIS PLACE
SERGEANT MAJOR GRANDAD
HAD A DREAM
SERGEANT MAJOR GRANDAD
DREAMED HIS DREAM
HE TOLD SPECIAL STORIES
ABOUT BEING BRAVE
LOOKING OUT FOR BUDDIES
HOW TO DIG A GRAVE
RIDING CAMELS IN THE DESERT
DRINKING FOREIGN BEER
HIDING BEHIND IVY
WHILST THE ENEMY’S NEAR
SEEING THE WIDE WORLD
CONQUERING HIS FEAR
PLAYING POKEY DIE
WHEN THE MOON SHINES CLEAR
OUR LITTLE SOLDIER
LEARNED A LOT BY HIS SIDE
OUR LITTLE SOLDIER
WAS WITH HIM WHEN HE DIED
SERGEANT MAJOR GRANDAD
HAD A DREAM
SERGEANT MAJOR GRANDAD
DREAMED HIS DREAM
SERGEANT MAJOR GRANDAD
SAW A LITTLE SOLDIER DREAM
Copyright Harry Rogers – 08-05-2012
7) THE CHILDREN IN THE QUEUE
AFTER SERGEANT MAJOR GRANDAD DIED
HE DROPPED OUT OF SCHOOL
JUST COULDN’T CONCENTRATE NO MORE
COULDN’T SEE THE POINT OF LEARNING
JUST SEVENTEEN AND SIGNING ON
LOOKING FOR ANY KIND OF JOB
THERE JUST WAS NOTHING OUT THERE
FOR AN UNTRAINED MIXED UP KID
HE JOINED THOSE
CHILDREN IN THE QUEUE
NOTHING HE COULD DO
CHILDREN IN THE QUEUE
NOTHING THEY CAN DO
HE GOT A LADDER, SPONGE AND A BUCKET
TOLD THE DOLE THEY COULD FUCKIN’ CHUCK IT
HIM AND KEVIN SET UP WASHING WINDOWS
BLEW THEIR TAKINGS ON CIDER AND WEED
GOT SO STONED IT WAS HARD TO SUCCEED
SPENT THE WHOLE SUMMER LAYING IN THE PARK
ALL THEIR FRIENDS FROM SCHOOL JOINED THEM
FEEDING THEIR HEADS FROM MORNING TILL DARK
THEY WERE THE
CHILDREN IN THE QUEUE
WHAT ELSE COULD THEY DO
CHILDREN IN THE QUEUE
NOTHING THEY CAN DO
Copyright Harry Rogers – 11-05-2012
8) DYING FOR LOVE
MARIA AND HER FAMILY WENT AWAY
THEY MOVED BACK TO CARDIFF BAY
ON THEIR LAST NIGHT TOGETHER
BOTH OF THEM WERE CRYING
THE LAST TIME THEY HELD EACH OTHER
THE LAST TIME THEY LOVED EACH OTHER
WHEN HE GOT BACK HOME AGAIN
HE FELT LIKE HE WAS DYING
DYING FOR LOVE
DYING FOR LOVE
THIS WAS THE END
HE WAS DYING FOR LOVE
HIS PARENTS SAID THAT IT WAS FOR THE BEST
WERE GLAD SHE HAD MOVED OUT TO THE WEST
SO GLAD THAT SHE WASN’T COMING BACK
DIDN’T LIKE THE FACT THAT SHE WAS BLACK
THEY SAW THE WAY AHEAD SO CLEAR
THEIR BOY COULD START HIS NEW CAREER
HE KNEW THERE WAS NO WAY THAT HE COULD SEE HER
STILL HE WAS DYING FOR THE LOVE OF HIS MARIA
DYING FOR LOVE
DYING FOR LOVE
HE WAS DYING FOR LOVE
DYING FOR THE LOVE OF HIS MARIA
Copyright: Harry Rogers – 17th May 2012
9) JOINING UP TODAY
IN THE KITCHEN IN HIS DRESSING GOWN
WAITING FOR MUM AND DAD TO COME DOWN
PUT THE KETTLE ON MADE A POT OF TEA
TOLD THEM BOTH “NOW LISTEN TO ME
I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU’VE GOT TO SAY
Y’SEE I’VE JUST GOT TO GET AWAY
THERE AIN’T NO JOBS HERE ANYWAY
I CAN’T STAND THOSE GAMES YOU PLAY
NOT SINCE YOU TURNED MY GIRL AWAY
GRANDAD WINS I’M JOINING UP TODAY
JOINING UP, JOINING UP
I’M JOINING UP TODAY
JOINING UP, JOINING UP
I’LL GET A JOB WITH PAY
I’M JOINING UP TODAY
I’M JOINING UP TODAY
YOU TURNED MY GIRL AWAY
NOW I’M JOINING UP TODAY
Copyright: Harry Rogers 18th May 2012
10) ALWAYS COMING HOME
WHEN HE WENT AWAY TO TRAIN
HE WAS STILL A SOLDIER BOY
BUT THEN HE CAME BACK HOME
AS AN ARTILLERYMAN
THEN THEY SENT HIM OUT TO BASRA
WHERE HE DID AS HE WAS TOLD
DESTROYING STREETS AND BUILDINGS
THAT WERE HOMES TO YOUNG AND OLD
BUT HE WAS
ALWAYS COMING HOME
ALWAYS COMING HOME
HE TOLD HIS MOTHER
HE WAS ALWAYS COMING HOME
GOT A MESSAGE FROM MARIA
ASKING WHERE AND HOW HE WAS
HE WAS ON PATROL IN HELMAND
WHEN HER SPECIAl TEXT CAME IN
SHE SAID SHE HAD TO SEE HIM
WHEN HE CAME BACK HOME AGAIN
SHE MISSED HIM OH SO BADLY
SHE HAD NEVER KNOWN SUCH PAIN
HE SENT HER THIS MESSAGE
ALWAYS COMING HOME
ALWAYS COMING HOME
MARIA MY LOVE
I AM ALWAYS COMING HOME
Copyright: Harry Rogers May 24 2012
11) BOMBARDIER
OUR SOLDIER, CAUGHT OUT IN THE OPEN
TRAPPED BENEATH THE LIGHT OF THE FULL WHITE MOON
THE SWEAT, BREAKING ON HIS FOREHEAD
AS IF IT WERE THE SEARING HEAT OF NOON
THE FURROWS ARE DEEP, YELLOW MUD STICKS TO HIS BOOTS
HIS FEET ARE HEAVY AS HE RUNS FOR COVER
HE SEES A FLASH AS A SNIPER SHOOTS
HIS HEART IS POUNDING, HE’S THINKING OF HIS LOVER
BOMBARDIER, BOMBARDIER, OOH BOMBARDIER
OOH WHAT IN HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?
BOMBARDIER, BOMBARDIER, OOH BOMBARDIER
IF YOU HAD YOUR CHANCE AGAIN, WOULD YOU VOLUNTEER?
CAUGHT IN CROSSFIRE, HE GETS IT, FRONT AND BACK
LYING TWISTED ON THE GROUND HE HEARS HIS PULSE THUD THUD
THE MOON DISAPPEARS BEHIND CLOUDS SO BLACK
HE SEES MARIA’S FACE REFLECTED IN HIS BLOOD
SHE LOOKS SO LOVELY, CURLS TUMBLE ROUND HER FACE
SMILING, SERENELY, SHE ASKS HIM FOR A KISS,
BUT THE VISION FADES IN A RED RED GLAZE
AS WITH HIS DYING GASP HE PURSES HIS LIPS!!
BOMBARDIER, BOMBARDIER, OOH BOMBARDIER
OOH WHAT IN HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?
BOMBARDIER, BOMBARDIER, OOH BOMBARDIER
IF ONLY YOU’D LISTENED WHEN SHE SAID DON’T VOLUNTEER?
OOH BOMBARDIER
OOH OOH BOMBARDIER
OOH OOOOOOH BOM-BAR-DIER
Copyright: Harry Rogers, London 1981
12) SON
SON, AS I STAND HERE, ALL ALONE
LOOKING DOWN, UPON YOUR STONE
I REMEMBER PASSING OUT DAY
YOU’D GROWN SO TALL, AND OH SO BRAVE
YOU LOOKED SO SMART, SO VERY PROUD
AND THE BAND WAS PLAYING, VERY LOUD
I STOOD WITH YOUR MOTHER, BY MY SIDE
BOTH OF US SWOLLEN UP WITH PRIDE,
BUT A FEELING NIGGLED, DEEP INSIDE
IN MY HEART OF HEARTS I KNEW SOMEONE HAD LIED
I KNEW THE DONKEYS HAD LIED TO THE LIONS
IN PURSUIT OF NEW FIRES FOR THEIR IRONS
SON, IT IS VERY HARD TO TAKE,
SON, I KNOW I MADE A BIG MISTAKE,
SON, I KNEW THE WAR WAS ONE BIG FAKE
SON, YOUR MUM AND I ACHE AND ACHE
WE’LL NEVER, EVER, GET THE CHANCE
TO SEE YOU DANCE YOUR WEDDING DANCE
SON, OH SON, MY LOVELY SON
SON, OH SON, MY LOVELY SON
WHEN YOU WERE STILL A LITTLE BOY
I BROUGHT YOU A BRIGHT SHINY TOY
I THOUGHT YOU’D HAVE A LOT OF FUN
PLAYING WITH YOUR NEW TOY GUN
NOW I KNOW WHAT I MUST DO
THIS IS THE PROMISE, I MAKE TO YOU
WHENEVER I MEET FATHERS AND SONS
I’LL TELL THEM ALL, SMASH UP YOUR GUNS
FATHERS AND SONS – SMASH UP YOUR GUNS
FATHERS AND SONS – SMASH UP YOUR GUNS
DO IT NOW – DO IT – FOR MY SON!
Copyright: Harry Rogers – Aberbanc 3/3/2010
Please share widely.
SEARCHING FOR A HANG
ON THE STREET WITH THE TRAMWAY FROM TAKSIM SQUARE
IT SEEMS THERE ARE MUSICIANS BUSKING EVERYWHERE
HALFWAY ALONG THE RAILS NEAR THE ADA BOOKSHOP BAR
FIFTEEN TURKISH FOLK SINGERS SING SONGS FROM ANKARA
THE SWEETEST SONG THAT NIGHT CAME NOT FROM ANY TONGUE
BUT FROM THE DULCET FINGERS OF SOME HIPPY WITH HIS HANG
ON A CARPET COVERED CUSHION OF YELLOW BLUE AND GREEN
THE HANG RESTED ON HIS KNEES LIKE AN UPTURNED SOUP TUREEN
A CROWD OF PEOPLE GATHERED AS HE WOVE HIS RHYTHMIC SPELL
EACH CAREFULLY CHOSEN NOTE CLEARER THAN A CHRYSTAL BELL
FAR FAR SWEETER SOUNDING THAN ANY BELL THAT EVER RANG
NOW EVER SINCE THAT NIGHT I’VE BEEN SEARCHING FOR A HANG
Copyright Harry Rogers – 17th October 2012 – Istanbul
Please share widely.
Below Topkapi Palace Walls – the chilly dogz
This is The Chilly Dogz version of my poem Below Topkapi Palace Walls written during my holiday in Istanbul in October 2012.
BELOW TOPKAPI PALACE WALLS
The horse chestnuts are dropping conkers
Outside Topkapi Palace walls
Beautiful wooden houses
Frequented by queens
In the evening gently smoking
To Blue Mosque prayer calls
Across the way yet another ruined shack
With an Istanbul stray cat
Sit sipping from a small glass
One more Hot Apple Tea
Staring out from beneath the rim
Of that old battered tennis hat
It’s hard to believe that we’re all
So close to war in the 21st century
They say this is the place
Where East and West collide
But wherever you come from
This just might be the perfect place to hide
Whilst waiting for the start of
A nuclear Winter bomb as it falls
Find me smoking apple aniseed hubble bubble
Outside Topkapi Palace walls
Yeah
Find me smoking apple aniseed hubble bubble
Outside Topkapi Palace walls
Copyright Harry Rogers – 18th October 2012
Please share widely.
THE GIRL IN THE GARNET COLOURED DRESS
I wrote this after thinking about children dying by accident in Palestine. Marc Gordon and I recorded the video very quickly in his monthly guitar shop in Cardigan in our usual let’s bang it down straight away manner. We are having fun doing these Tuesday session videos and it looks like we will get out and about for more in the coming months as I am retiring from wage slavery next weekend.
THE GIRL IN THE GARNET COLOURED DRESS
SUCH A BEAUTIFUL LITTLE GIRL
IN HER GARNET COLOURED DRESS
THE PERFECT IMAGE OF SERENITY
CARRYING A PILE OF TABOON BREAD
FROM HER GRANDMOTHERS OVEN
GOLD COINS GLINTING ON HER CAP
SMILING AT LEMONS IN THE SUNSHINE
WITH ASSURED STILNESS OF HER HEAD
STOPPING BEFORE CROSSING THE ROAD
SHE CRUMPLES TO THE DUSTY GROUND
ANOTHER COLLATERAL OBSCENITY
AN ISRAELI RICOCHET LEAVES HER DEAD
ARE WE CRYING YET?
ARE WE CRYING YET?
ARE WE CRYING YET?
ARE WE?
Harry Rogers: Sunday 16th September 2012
Please share widely.
The Chilly Dogz – “White Poppies”
WHITE POPPIES
I WAS WALKING DOWN WHITEHALL
A THOUGHT CAME INTO MY BRAIN
SUPPOSING THE POPPIES WERE WHITE
NOT THE USUAL SHADE OF BLOODY RED
COULD PEOPLE EVER CHANGE THEIR MIND
ABOUT THE REASONS THEY FILL THEIR
BUTTONHOLES WITH WIRE AND PAPER
DYED THE USUAL SHADE OF BLOODY RED
WHITE POPPIES……….
WHITE POPPIES……….
WHITE POPPIES……….
WHITE POPPIES……….
THE LEGION COLLECTORS TINS
SHAKE IN EVERY CITY, EVERY TOWN
BLACK CENTRES TO THE FLOWERS
STILL THE USUAL SHADE OF BLOODY RED
I WANT POPPIES FOR DEAD SOLDIERS
POPPIES FOR THEIR MUMS AND DADS
THEIR PARTNERS AND THEIR CHILDREN
NOT THE USUAL SHADE OF BLOODY RED
WHITE POPPIES……….
WHITE POPPIES……….
WHITE POPPIES……….
WHITE POPPIES……….
POPPIES FOR THOSE DEAD CIVILIANS
YOUNG MEN THEIR WIVES AND CHILDREN
GRAND PARENTS BLEEDING IN THE STREETS
IT’S THE USUAL SHADE OF BLOODY RED
I JUST CANNOT GET THAT THOUGHT
TO DISAPPEAR FROM INSIDE MY HEAD
IF ONLY THE POPPIES WERE WHITE
NOT THE USUAL SHADE OF BLOODY RED
WHITE POPPIES……….
WHITE POPPIES……….
WHITE POPPIES……….
WHITE POPPIES……….
COPYRIGHT: HARRY ROGERS – 10-08-2012
Please share widely.
Scene Red – When We Were Young
Scene Red with special guest Maggie Nicols playing their improvisational piece “When We Were Young” live at Harrifest 2012
Please share widely.
Scene Red – Kindred Souls
Scene Red with special guest Maggie Nicols playing “Kindred Souls” live at Harrifest 2012.
Please share widely.
Scene Red – An All American Boy – live at Harrifest 2012
Scene Red playing “An All American Boy” at Harrifest 2012
Please share widely.
Scene Red – Hunting Lizards In The Long Grass (live)
Scene Red playing “Hunting Lizards In The Long Grass” at Harrifest 2012
Please share widely.
Scene Red – Go Guitar
Scene Red play “Go Guitar” Live At Harrifest 2012
Please share widely.
Scene Red – Waiting For The Tide To Turn
Scene Red with special guest Annika Fehling play “Waiting For The Tide To Turn” live at Harrifest 2012
Please share widely.
An All American Boy
I finished writing this song lyric on 28th February and a week later this happened… http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-17330205 .
AN ALL AMERICAN BOY
THEY POSTED HIM OUT TO AFGHANISTAN
HIS DAD HOPED IT WOULD MAKE OF HIM A MAN
LIKE IT HAD FOR HIM OUT IN VIETNAM
RISKING LIFE AND LIMB FOR UNCLE SAM
HIS GIRLFRIEND AND HIS MUM WERE REALLY SCARED
EVERYBODY SEEMED AS IF THEY CARED
HE WAS
AN ALL AMERICAN BOY
AN ALL AMERICAN BOY
AN ALL AMERICAN BOY
HE SPENT MANY WEEKS FIGHTING WITH THE TALIBAN
GOT A NEW TATTOO THOUGHT IT PROVED HE WAS A MAN
GREW A BEARD THAT MADE HIM LOOK LIKE CHARLIE CHAN
THEN HIS GIRLFRIEND WROTE HE WAS IN THE DUMPER VAN
THAT’S WHEN THE SITUATION BEGAN TO GET HIM DOWN
THAT WAS WHY HE RODE HIS JEEP INTO KABUL TOWN
HE WAS
AN ALL AMERICAN BOY
AN ALL AMERICAN BOY
AN ALL AMERICAN BOY
DRINKING ILLEGAL HOOCH WITH THREE OTHER GUYS
HE LOST ALL REASON ANGRY TEARS FILLED UP HIS EYES
PICKING UP HIS M16 HE RAN AMOK IN THE NOONDAY SUN
SHOOTING SHOPPERS WILLY NILLY FIRING ON THE RUN
A SNIPER WITH A LAZER SIGHT AIMED A BEAD OF RED
SLOWLY PULLED THE TRIGGER AND SHOT HIM IN THE HEAD
HE WAS
AN ALL AMERICAN BOY
AN ALL AMERICAN BOY
AN ALL AMERICAN BOY
Copyright: Harry Rogers, Aberbanc, 28th February 2012
Please share widely.
Weird Naked Indian
I wrote this in January 2010 and Marc Gordon and I recorded it for the first Chilly Dogz CD album of Performance Poetry “Boom-Time In Dystopia”. This is the demo version recorded on my hand held Olympus WS-560M digital voice recorder. It’s so sad all those poor bankers who had breakdowns and never got it back together again…..isn’t it? Ha ha ha…..
Here is the poem:-
WEIRD NAKED INDIAN
There’s a weird naked Indian living in our wood
Yesterday he told me he’d like to stay for good
He lives on nuts and berries and a handful of brown rice
He tells me that he’s found the keys to paradise!
I watch him from my window, foraging for food
Strolling through the bushes, completely in the nude
He says he’s had enough of living in the West
And who am I to tell him that he doesn’t know what’s best!
He’s weird,He’s naked
And he says, He’s an Indian
Pitched up by the stream in his tie-dyed bivouac
He’s given up the booze, the cocaine and the crack
He’s got a lot of stories, waiting to be told
I hope that I can hear them all before I get too old
Tales of town houses and his gleaming Maserati
Of Kruger Rands and parties with the banking glitterati,
Bent shares and dodgy mortgages, and how he lost it all
And the minor role he played in Lehman Brothers fall
There’s a weird naked Indian living in our wood
This morning I told him, he could stay for good
He’s weird, He’s naked
And he says, He’s an Indian
If he says
He’s an Indian
He’s an Indian!
Copyright: Harry Rogers – Aberbanc – 27/01/2010
Please share widely.
Old Red Volvo Car – The Chilly Dogz with Dave Sutherland
I wrote this on the day I heard about Johnny Edgecombe’s death. I was in the South of France on holiday at a place called Banyuls Sur Mer and sat in a bar drinking pastis and thinking about the 1970’s when Johnny and I had a lot of adventures in his vintage Volvo. Recorded at Red Kite Studios with Dave Sutherland on Guitar and Marc Gordon on Roland Guitar Synth and on The Chilly Dogz 2nd album.
OLD RED VOLVO CAR
Playing chess with Johnny Edge
In The Tolly public bar
We spoke of blue nosed schooners
Sailing Caribbean seas
Johnny dreamed one day that he
Would journey there from Africa
He brought me a brown leather jacket
From the market in Amsterdam
He said “Harry man this fits you
Much better than it fits me,
I think that you should keep it
It won’t cost you a damn.”
Now Johnny had become a gentle man
In spite of his violent past
He loved his three children
Truly with all his heart
He was always a father
Right up to the last
Bringing Greenwich and Bermondsey
The finest in jazz
From Dudu, Django and Stan
Not forgetting Paraphernalia
The Edges were smooth, the music so cool
Johnny had living p’zazz
Now, no more pints of Guinness
Downed in one, by the jar
No more tastes or toots
To brighten up our days
No more midnight cruising
In that old red Volvo car……..
Goodbye Johnny
My Brother!
Copyright: Harry Rogers – Banyuls Sur Mer – 03/10/2010
Please share widely.
The Modern Privateers – The Chilly Dogz
Another track from The Chilly Dogz second album with Marc Gordon on guitar and Roland Guitar Synth. I wrote this after visiting a particular tower block in Swansea as part of my job as a social survey interviewer for ONS. The dealers in the courtyard are really scary with their dogs just itching to get at you as you gingerly make your way to the lifts. I was warned not to carry my laptop into the lift on my own on this estate, I did and luckily nothing happened but it is very representative of certain forgotten parts of the Coalition nightmare we all inhabit today. Of course heroin has been rife in these areas for decades now….. as have the money lenders!
MODERN PRIVATEERS
This is the story of the Modern Privateers
Be careful ‘cos it just might, fill you up with tears
The Lift it is broken
We gotta use the stairs
This is because
No-one fuckin’ cares
(about) Who makes all the laws
Or who owns all the shares
(and why) Public it’s yours
And private it’s theirs
Living up the tower
For at least another year
Giving loads of money
To some goddam privateer
Outside in the courtyard
Stands an illustrated man
With his heavy chained bull-terrier
And his new black windowed van
In the flats on all the balconies
The casements have gone rusty
All the winter rain gets in
The furniture smells musty
Legions of people living here
Just can’t take it for much more
They’re reduced to spending all their time
Scrabbling around to score
The illustrated man has
A friend named Sharkskin Jack
Who will always loan you money
When you need to buy some smack
But, when you borrow money
Off of men like Sharkskin Jack
No matter how much you give to them
You’ll not finish paying back
They’ll string you out upon their rack
For years and years and years
Those two bastards and the rentier
Are the modern Privateers.
Copyright: Harry Rogers, 24/05/2010
Please share widely.
It’s Boom-Time in Dystopia
Another poem I posted as a note on Facebook which is hard to find now. Title track to the first Chilly Dogz CD and just as valid now as it was two years ago. I just love the languid way the guitar makes this track sound, Marc was on very good form by the time we got round to recording this track.
http://thechillydogz.bandcamp.com/track/boomtime-in-dystopia
BOOM-TIME IN DYSTOPIA
The ship of state lies crashed upon the rocks
The rich and the famous are checking their locks
One hundred starlings fall from the sky
Some precious darlings say “We’re all gonna die!”
The world is getting dopier
We’ve emptied cornucopia
We never reached Utopia
And it’s Boom-time in dystopia!
Whilst we lie sleeping in our beds
Drones are flying above our heads
The CCTV is watching me and you
None of us are quite sure what to do
No-one stops to think about the honey bee
Only the cult of celebrity
Airheads all scream, and shout “Hooray!”
“Jordan’s got a new pair of tits today!”
We lie around drinking pomegranate smoothies
Watching brand new counterfeited movies
Nobody pays for their music anymore
Nobody believes that they’re breaking the law
And what does it matter any fucking way
There aren’t enough cops to nick everyone today
And now the Assembly’s gone extra craven
They’re gonna pour boiling water into Milford Haven
The world is getting dopier
We’ve emptied cornucopia
We never reached Utopia
And it’s Boom-time in Dystopia!
Copyright: Harry Rogers, 11th March 2010
harri seeing red 