Read the paper - humdrum
Henley Regatta - page one
Eat die - ho hum
Page three - big bum
Giving a lunatic a loaded gun
He walks - others run
Thirty dead - no fun
Foreigners feature as figures of fun
Do something destructive chum
Sit right down - write a letter to the Sun
Say... "Bring back hangin' for everyone"
The took my advice - they brought it back
National costume was all-over-black
There were corpses in the avenues and cul-de-sacs
Piled up neatly in six-man stacks
Hanging from the traffic lights and specially made racks
They'd hang you for incontinence and fiddling your tax
Failure to hang yourself justified the axe
A deedely dee, a deedely dum
Looks like they brought back hangin' for everyone
The novelty's gone - it's hell
This place is a - death cell
The constant clang of the funeral bells
Those who aren't hanging are hanging someone else
The peoples pay - the paper sells
It's plug ugly - sub-animal yells
Death is unsightly - death smells
Swingin' Britain - don't put me on
They're gonna bring back the rope for everyone
Henley Regatta - page one
Eat die - ho hum
Page three - big bum
Giving a lunatic a loaded gun
He walks - others run
Thirty dead - no fun
Foreigners feature as figures of fun
Do something destructive chum
Sit right down - write a letter to the Sun
Say... "Bring back hangin' for everyone"
The took my advice - they brought it back
National costume was all-over-black
There were corpses in the avenues and cul-de-sacs
Piled up neatly in six-man stacks
Hanging from the traffic lights and specially made racks
They'd hang you for incontinence and fiddling your tax
Failure to hang yourself justified the axe
A deedely dee, a deedely dum
Looks like they brought back hangin' for everyone
The novelty's gone - it's hell
This place is a - death cell
The constant clang of the funeral bells
Those who aren't hanging are hanging someone else
The peoples pay - the paper sells
It's plug ugly - sub-animal yells
Death is unsightly - death smells
Swingin' Britain - don't put me on
They're gonna bring back the rope for everyone
Contributed by Bernart Bartleby - 2015/6/4 - 13:01
×
Note for non-Italian users: Sorry, though the interface of this website is translated into English, most commentaries and biographies are in Italian and/or in other languages like French, German, Spanish, Russian etc.
Versi di John Cooper Clarke (1949-), “punk poet” inglese, recitati su di un base musicale minimale e distorta eseguita da una band chiamata The Curious Yellows, costituita da Martin Hannett, produttore del disco per i tipi della Rabid Records, e altri musicisti (Eric McGann, John Scott, Phil Middleton, Tony Roberts).
Nell’EP intitolato “Innocent”, esordio musicale di John Cooper Clarke.
Un tizio legge The Sun - il noto tabloid inglese gossipparo di proprietà del miliardario Rupert Murdoch – e, tra le varie minchiate, c’è la notizia che un mattacchione armato ha fatto fuori una trentina di persone. Impressionato ed arrabbiato, il cittadino prende carta e penna e scrive al suo giornale: “Bisogna ripristinare l’impiccagione per tutti!”…
Viene preso alla lettera e la “Swingin' Britain” viene trasformata in un mattatoio a cielo aperto…
Se ultimamente vi è capitato di ascoltare il duo di Nottingham Sleaford Mods, salutati come grandi innovatori, beh, ascoltatevi un po’ di “poetry reading” del vecchio John Cooper Clarke e vi renderete conto che lui già c’era arrivato 40 anni fa…