All of the words below were written by Peter Wyngarde. No notes were left with regard to tempo, instrumentation, other music reference points, save for the words ‘Ballad’ and ‘To be sung as if drunk’ on two of the lyric sheets.

1 Colour TV

It’s so trendy to be a colour all that fuss about who’s in power No one knew who to love or hate but now it’s purple red and green Blood transfusions in on colour television   Mind you, it is a little confusing when Sammy Davis says he’s Jewish And looks more red than red Indian so does Pope Pius and being Yiddish Blood transfusions in on colour television   And then all these Vietnamese North or South seem none too pleased Their skins are greener than the trees and G.I. Joes browner than Heinz baked beans It is confusing since they call each other yellow in good ol’ Americanise Blood transfusions in in colour TV’s Of course the real joy’s to come   when they televise parliament and Georgie Brown looks blue to some in spite of Scotch and Murray mints And Barbara Castle’s a soft of magenta plum Blood transfusions in cool television   But it’s the revolutioning students that are by far the trendiest And change their colour the fastest from bloody blue, white and red To the grey sobriety of hospital bed as they slide from violence to passivity and silence Blood transfusions in on colour TV

2 D.J.

Roll your R’s to prove you’re no homo Add a pun to make it fun A voice more stereo than mono you’re bound to be a DJ on 1   Chat up the guys and dolls and talk of peace call them lad and lassies, of course peace is neece Add to this Scots whoo-hooI monotony a discombobulating cacophony   And you have Stewart Henry and the like Every morning, noon and night Telling us what is a hit or a miss what disc to buy and what to cross off your list I’m just hoping for the day they go on strike Praying they miss their bus, are late or break their mic Do let the music have an unadulterated run Cut out all the constipated fun on Radio 1 but then of course we won’t know the titles of anyone’s album because words don’t seem to count anymore Just the mixing, beat and backtracking on some so Stewart stay and save us from another one

3 Marie

Marie looks across her window above the trees the men all down below enjoy all they can see She’s a woman of nature that life brought into the world to play with And she looks so sad ’cause she’s lonely, Marie   She never hurries to put on her underwear her only real friend is a yellow teddy bear. Marie, Marie.   Marie, only you cannot see the more you have the less you will be free Butterscotch, acid drops, trips too with tea   Marie lies on a pillow next to a bed the men who visit her don’t see what’s in her head She’s going on a journey that’s kinder and faster than any they’ve made closed door, not alone anymore. Marie, Marie.   She never hurries to put on her underwear her only real friend is a yellow teddy bear. Marie, Marie.   Marie, only you cannot see   (Repeat this to end).

4 Merry Sexmas

(Spoken as if drunk) What is all this fuss o’er Xmas s’cuse us is it to do with – love Why is everyone so sexless he must have had some fun above   After all it is his birthday no one’s born without someone’s horn Proclaiming it is a mirth day and the night is no time to mourn But time to have more jollity And practise his philosophy Turning to other cheek rapidly for kisses from the majority   Good will and love for all men let’s all have a cuddle and a drink Even that loner in No.10 Might make that cheek turn quite pink   All that matters is for us to love give the old world a piece of dove Have one another, sod givin’ (I’m drunk) a’int we all God’s chill’un

5 Robinson Crusoe’s Story

The night was thick and hazy When the ‘Piccadilly Daisy’ Carried down the crew and captain in the sea; And I think the water drowned ‘em For they never, ever found ‘em And I know they didn’t come ashore with me   Oh ‘twas very sad and lonely When I found myself the only Population on this cultivated shore; But I’ve made a little tavern In a rocky little cavern And I sit and watch for people at the door   I spent no time in looking For a girl to do my cooking As I’m quite a clever hand at making stews; Perhaps that fellow Friday Just to keep the tavern tidy And to put a Sunday polish on my shoes   I have a little garden That I’m cultivating lard in as the things I eat are rather tough and dry; For I live on toasted lizards Prickly pears and parrot gizzards And I’m really very fond of beetle pie   The clothes I had were furry And it made me fret and worry When I found the moths were eating off the hair; And I had to scrape and sand ‘em And I boiled ‘em and I tanned ‘em ’Till I got the fine Morocco suit I wear   I sometimes see diversions In family excursions With a few domestic animals you see; And we take along a carrot As refreshment for the parrot And a little can of jungleberry tea   Then we gather as we travel Bits of moss and dirty gravel And we chip off little specimens of stone; And will carry home the prizes Funny bugs of handy sizes Just to give the day of scientific tone   If the roads are wet and muddy We remain at home and study For the goat is very clever at a sum; And the dog instead of fighting Studies ornamental writing While the cat is taking lessons on the drum   We retire at eleven And we rise again at seven And I wish to call attention as I close; To the fact that all the scholars Are correct about their collars In particular in turning out their toes

6 Silent Thanks To Noisy Yanks

Why are Americans so demonstrative are they worried they won’t be noticed? That they have to be more remonstrative Than any other country listed   From juvenile delinquency to God is longer than any trip to Mars and back Why make all that fuss about the sod And the fairy brigade when all is black without the aid of any lease-lend pact   Maybe it’s because they’re worried about the state of violent destructive groups that have sprung from their roots of palsied need And feel the time is now to be reconstructive – in deed   If not invoice at least some gesture that democratic move presages failure to all the innocence that need blackmailers to excuse their greed With soldiers and sailors to guard that little countries shops and retailers?   Wouldn’t it be oh so much wiser to forget their noisy publicity And quietly reform (so much nicer) At home where all the trouble lies with love –  no guns – so no one dies

7 To Call A Man A Man – Is A State of Grace

(Spoken): You may remember students demonstrating outside the White House with placards with the names of the fallen at Vietnam   A fence like sentinels in wait as names echo on the lawns of the House of white   The spikes like tombstones at dawn salute the old and the new that died Wasserman, Daniels and Cohen both Kennedy’s, King and Lincoln   All are on common ground they fought and died for freedom That cry out of sight and sound even to those who cannot see them Is this the place for that cry which says To call man a man is a state of grace no man can deny

8 Why Do Taxi Drivers Talk So Much?

Why do taxi drivers talk so much? Is it because they want to tax our nerves Chat, chat in between each move of the clutch to the boiling point of no reserve   Do they already know we’re far too late And nothing they say could possibly make or alter that important date?   Or is it because they are fed up too with traffic, price of living, taxes (The government informs are overdue like this fast becoming talking taxi)   Really, what is he going on about? Mind that truck! Wish I were walking Did you see that? He didn’t shout I would have done! He just went on talking   What was that? Oh yes, the Permissive Society  yes I do agree with it What’s that? Wish your missus did Oh, I see (spoken quietly) (Maybe that would be a bit TOO permissive!)   No, no I don’t think age has anything… (Look out! The bus was nearly on us!) No, if your own thing is really jumping in and out of her bras it’s a gas (spoken quietly)   I only hope for your sake they’re stretch proof! No, I don’t think that makes you a poofe (wish I could be as optimistic about my life on this endless trip). “Is she?” (definitely masochistic!) “Oh, when you jumped your wife did a flip” (Well, if you really jumped – sadistic). “No, I didn’t think she was in ‘em you prefer short ones to the linen?” (“I’m sure you do –  wish you button up. Don’t really care what either of you do”) “She wants a what – a Pekinese pup?” What’s he going on about now? The last war! Oh no not that I’m late for the premiere. (I was a conscientious objector – that was until I met this taxi bore!).   “Where you? (I’m so glad) The Royal Pay Corps?” (I wish they’d paid you off). Open the door, I can’t stand anymore! “Drop me off cabby!” (No tip –  lip. You’ve been too gabby) “How much?” Well, no, it’s a beautiful day I was should have walked all the way 16 bob? No, no, keep the change you deserve the tip” Never know – might give up bras, swap them for gymslips (Sound of cab door banging).

Note: The album was also to include a reading of the poem, ‘If I Have Made, My Lady’, written by E.E. Cummings.

Click below for more information on Peter’s album…