And all these stupid silly songs Keep trying to catch your ear I'm trying desperately It's just so hard to persevere And even if you listened I never
Come all ye rolling minstrels And together we will try To rouse the spirit of the earth And move the rolling sky Those that dance will start to dance
For the moon and the sun And for the winds I've sung Hear how the lovely tones Dance upon my tongue I've gazed upon the Orion For, oh, so many nights
The minstrel of the dawn is here To make you laugh and bend your ear Up the steps you'll hear him climb All full of thoughts, all full of rhymes Listen
One, two, three, four It's almost over, it's almost done And you can't put the blame on anyone It's almost easy and it's almost fun Did you get caught
(M. Nascimento - Fernando Brant, 1983) Quem e esse viajante Quem e esse menestrel Que espalha esperanca E transforma sal em mel? Quem e esse saltimbanco
Baker street muse ----------------------------------------- Windy bus-stop. click. shop-window. heel. Shady gentleman. fly-button. feel. In the underpass
Come, let me play with you, black satin dancer In all your giving, given is the answer Tearing life from limb and looking sweeter Than the brightest flower
And ride with us young bonny lass With the angels of the night Crack wind clatter, flesh rein bite On an out size unicorn Rough-shod winging sky blue
And here slip I --- dragging one foot in the gutter --- some only son's mother. Baker Street casualty. in the midnight echo of the shop that sells cheap
Hello sun, hello bird, hello my lady Hello breakfast, may I buy you again tomorrow?
The minstrel in the gallery Looked down upon the smiling faces He met the gazes, observed the spaces Between the old men's cackle He brewed a song of
I have no time for Time Magazine or Rolling Stone. I have no wish for wishing wells or wishing bones. And if you think I'm joking, then I'm just a one
There's a haze on the skyline, to wish me on my way. And there's a note on the telephone --- some roses on a tray. And the motorway's stretching right
``Big bottled Fraulein, put your weight on me,'' said the pig-me to the whore, desperate for more in his assault upon the mountain. In the doorway of
Well, I saw a bird today, flying from a bush and the wind blew it away And the black-eyed mother sun scorched the butterfly at play Velvet veined, I saw
HAMMY: [spoken] Gentlemen, be seated. [singing] Mr. Tambo, Mr. Tambo, how do you do? And incidentally, how do you feel? MR. TAMBO (PENNY): [spoken