Tony Crafter

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Original text in yellow, anagram in pink.

THE DAY BEFORE YOU CAME.
By
Abba

I must have left my house at eight, because I always do,
My train, I'm certain, left the station just when it was due,
I must have read the morning paper going into town,
And having gotten through the editorial, no doubt I must have frowned.

I must have made my desk around a quarter after nine,
With letters to be read, and heaps of papers waiting to be signed,
I must have gone to lunch at half past twelve or so,
The usual place, the usual bunch,
And still on top of this I'm pretty sure it must have rained,
The day before you came.

I must have lit my seventh cigarette at half past two,
And at the time I never even noticed I was blue,
I must have kept on dragging through the business of the day,
Without really knowing anything, I hid a part of me away.

At five I must have left, there's no exception to the rule,
A matter of routine, I've done it ever since I finished school.
The train back home again,
Undoubtedly I must have read the evening paper then,
Oh yes, I'm sure my life was well within its usual frame,
The day before you came.

I must have opened my front door at eight o'clock or so,
And stopped along the way to buy some Chinese food to go,
I'm sure I had my dinner watching something on TV,
There's not, I think, a single episode of Dallas that I didn't see.

I must have gone to bed around a quarter after ten,
I need a lot of sleep, and so I like to be in bed by then,
I must have read a while,
The latest one by Marilyn French or something in that style,
It's funny, but I had no sense of living without aim,
The day before you came.

And turning out the light I must have yawned and cuddled up for yet another night,
And rattling on the roof I must have heard the sound of rain,
The day before you came.

I CAN'T BELIEVE THE LYRICS.
(Inane Outpourings Of A European Poet.)

I can't believe the lyrics they are awfully mundane,
How could Benny.A. and poet Bjorn pen something that inane?
They must've had a bad day or their tongues got out of gear,
The tune itself is good, and somewhat haunting, but the lyrics are damned queer.

Their tunes are often catchy and the melodies are fine,
And usually with lyrics that are clever and inventive every time,
Oh, but something went so wrong with one lame, awful song,
It's quite unusual for them,
Agnetha sings the tune with much emotion, aye that's true,
Yet, oh, the words are poo.

I must admit I've read reviews that think the song is fine,
They think the music's perfect and the lyrics are divine,
But compare it to a good song such as 'Winner Takes It All',
And I really do believe that it does not match up at all.

'Slipping Through My Fingers' is a favourite tune of mine,
And 'Our Last Summer' too, I must've played it many times;
'Fernando' was ok,
'I Have A Dream' - another one I often play,
Oh, but there's one song I must admit I think is very lame,
'The Day Before You Came.'

I've seen the movie 'Mamma Mia' and I thought it fun,
Meryl Streep was good though she is nigh-on sixty-one!
I'm pretty sure it featured lots of golden Abba hits,
But not 'The Day Before You Came', oh no; because that song's the pits.

Evaluating every hit that Abba ever had,
The naff words of 'The Day Before...' rank down there even with the baddest of the bad,
It's a taradiddle,
On a par with 'Hey Hey Helen', and 'Dum Diddle',
The tune is so evocative it could've hit the top,
But it's a patent flop.

I'm puffing like a train, every time I hear those awful words boom out again,
And I have found a gun, and I am going off to bed
With gun held to my head!

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RUBY TUESDAY
By
Mick Jagger and Keith Richards.

She would never say where she came from
Yesterday don't matter if it's gone
While the sun is bright
Or in the darkest night
No one knows
She comes and goes

Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday
Who could hang a name on you?
When you change with every new day
Still I'm gonna miss you...

Don't question why she needs to be so free
She'll tell you it's the only way to be
She just can't be chained
To a life where nothing's gained
And nothing's lost
At such a cost

Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday
Who could hang a name on you?
When you change with every new day
Still I'm gonna miss you...

There's no time to lose, I heard her say
Catch your dreams before they slip away
Dying all the time
Lose your dreams
And you will lose your mind.
Ain't life unkind?

Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday
Who could hang a name on you?
When you change with every new day
Still I'm gonna miss you...

EULOGY - KEITH RICHARDS.
Insane? Senile?- One Unusual Guy!

Hey, I never said I was a saint,
Hubby and role model, I just ain't!
Rock has been my life,
More than my kids and wife,
And who can tell,
The drugs as well?

I'm in my new heyday,
Who can stay as young as me,
When Ron Woods retires to Bournemouth,
I'll be doing gigs still.

You question why I'm always off my head,
The doctors say, "Uh-huh, you should be dead!"
High on drugs and Scotch,
And vodka on the rocks,
They're joy, they're fun,
Hey! I can't die young!

I'm in my new heyday!
Who can stay as young as me,
When Ron Woods retires to Bournemouth,
I'll be doing gigs still.

McCartney, you belong to yesterday,
Pete Townshend, you're outdated anyway,
The Bee Gees want a rest,
They need to convalesce,
The boys feel rough
They have a cough.

I'm in my new heyday,
Who can stay as young as me,
When Ron Woods retires to Bournemouth,
I'll be doing gigs still.

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VINCENT
by
Don McLean

Starry, starry night
Paint your palette blue and gray
Look out on a summer's day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul

Shadows on the hills
Sketch the trees and the daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colors on the snowy linen land

{Refrain}
Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

Starry, starry night
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze
Swirling clouds in violet haze
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue

Colors changing hue
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand

{Refrain}

For they could not love you
But still, your love was true
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night
You took your life as lovers often do
But I could've told you, Vincent
This world was never meant
For one as beautiful as you

Starry, Starry night
Portraits hung in empty halls
Frameless heads on nameless walls
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget

Like the strangers that you've met
The ragged men in ragged clothes
The silver thorn, a bloody rose
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow

Now I think I know
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they're not listening still
Perhaps they never will.

PARIS TUNNEL HYMN
Final Torment Of A Princess.


Starry Paris night,
In that wrecked Mercedes car,
A body, broken, torn and marred,
Whose gaze rests on the dirty tunnel walls.

Frenzy at the crash,
Strangers shout and the cameras flash,
To film her lying in that smash,
As the light forever fades in those blue eyes.

{Refrain}
The Royals never knew,
What you tried to say to them,
How you suffered, lonely, shy, in vain,
And they all ignored your pain,
They did not listen, no they weren't aware,
Maybe they didn't care.

Classy, classy sight,
In the Ritz, you looked divine,
You didn't know Death's grand design
Was lurking in that sad French tunnel's gloom.

How it stunned the world,
When they heard that fateful news,
No one could believe it true,
No, not our Princess, no, it cannot be.

{Refrain}

Yet they strived to save you,
They did all they could do,
But, though you'd shone so very bright
On that sorry, sorry night,
You lost your life and we lost something too,
Now I guess we all know Princess,
There'll never be another soul as beautiful as you.


Starry, sorry night,
Why did fate not let you live?
Why should one with more to give,
Be snuffed out like a candle in the wind?

So, what's life all about?
If soon over in a twist of fate?
From being there, wrong time, wrong place,
With no eternal plan to light the way?

Will we know the truth?
Why that driver lost control?
Did that man's penchant for strong alcohol
Take its harsh and senseless toll?
Now Princess you've found immortality,
For all eternity.

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THE TIGER
By
William Blake.

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

BATTERED TIGER.
(That Hanky-Panky, Lawn-Stud Yank).

Tiger, Tiger, in a whirl,
Had a fair way with the girls,
Now that game has run its course,
He's in the rough - maybe divorce?

What a swinging time he'd had!
What a ball! Hah! What a cad!
Swedish wife, blonde, bright and trim,
Why wasn't that enough for him?

Wife is harsh, the man's in tatters,
Lost the trophy that most matters,
And every birdie that he met's
An albatross around his neck.

From far and wide they all appear,
Strewth! How many are there here?
One, two, three, four... huh?... nine ten!
When did he find time for them?

Ruffled Tiger, shrewd yet green,
The aftermath he hadn't seen,
Nor remembered he was wedded
When each pretty bird he bedded.

Zesty Tiger, in a whirl,
Had a fair way with the girls,
All that effort to be Master,
Frittered, shattered, what disaster.

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EYE OF THE TIGER
By
Survivor

Risin' up, back on the street
Did my time, took my chances
Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet
Just a man and his will to survive
So many times, it happens too fast
You trade your passion for glory
Don't lose your grip on the dreams of the past
You must fight just to keep them alive

[Chorus:]
It's the eye of the tiger, it's
the thrill of the fight
Rising up to the challenge of our rival
And the last known survivor
stalks his prey in the night
And he's watching us all with the eye of the tiger

Face to face, out in the heat
Hangin' tough, stayin' hungry
They stack the odds, still we take to the street
For the kill with the skill to survive

[Chorus]

Risin' up, straight to the top
Had the guts, got the glory
Went the distance, now I'm not gonna stop
Just a man and his will to survive

[Chorus]

The eye of the tiger
[Repeats to fade out]

YEAR OF THE TIGER

Twenty-Ten, decade of pain,
I don't know how we made it,
Terror, shock, the psychos hijacking planes,
It's a wonder that we have survived.
So many threats this Millennium,
They stalk our lives like a tiger,
Folks on the street, lookin' joyless and glum,
People strugglin' just to survive.

[Chorus]
It's the Year of the Tiger, no it's not Tiger Woods,
But the Chinese-myth symbol of strong courage,
Thus I'm trustin' that Right will then prevail as it should
And I'll fight for that right with the might of the tiger.

Take a trip, that's if you can,
Go off on that vacation,
Take my advice then, and stick to the land,
There's the threat you might die if you fly.

[Chorus]

Now you spot the people's mistrust
Sense that constant suspicion,
You hear them shout, "No, stop! We've suffered enough!"
Push that button, ignite... The Revival!

Yes...

The Year of the Tiger.

Yes!

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PIDDLING PETE

A farmer's dog came down to town,
His Christian name was Pete,
His pedigree was ten yards long,
His looks were hard to beat.

And as he trotted down the street,
'twas beautiful to see;
His work on every lamppost,
His mark on every tree.

He watered every gateway,
He never missed a post;
For piddling was his masterpiece,
And piddling was his boast.

The city dogs stood looking on,
With deep and jealous rage;
To see this simple country dog,
The piddler of his age.

They sniffed him over one by one,
They sniffed him two by two,
The noble Pete in high disdain
Stood still till they were through.

They sniffed him over one by one,
Their praise for him was high;
But when one sniffed him underneath,
Pete piddled in his eye.

Then just to show these city dogs,
He didn't give a damn;
Pete strolled into a grocer's shop,
And piddled on the ham.

He piddled on the onions,
He piddled on the floor;
And when the grocer kicked him out,
He piddled on the door.

Behind him all the city dogs,
Debated what they'd do;
They'd hold a piddling carnival,
To show this stranger through.

They showed him all the piddling posts,
They knew about the town;
And started out with many winks,
To best this stranger down.

But Pete was with them every trick,
With vigour and with vim;
A thousand piddles, more or less,
Were all the same to him.

And on and on went noble Pete,
With hind leg kicking high;
While others lifted legs in bluff,
And piddled mighty dry.

He watered every piddling post,
He watered every sandhill;
Till all the city champions,
Were piddled to a standstill.

Then Pete an exhibition gave,
In all the ways to piddle;
With double drips, and fancy flips,
And now and then a dribble.

And all the time this country dog
Did neither wink nor grin,
But blithely piddled out of town,
Just as he'd piddled in.

The city dogs said: "So long Pete,
Your piddling did defeat us,Ó
But no one's ever put them wise,
For Pete had diabetes.

FIDDLING THIEVES

The politician came to town
His bags packed and prepared
To spend the weekdays living in
His London pied a terre.

The House of Commons stood nearby,
It was his place of work,
Where he would spout bad rhetoric
And be a Right Hon. jerk.

Yet this was not his only joy,
'twas not the only aim,
Neat fiddling was his greatest skill,
With dud expenses claims.

The voters, they were blind to it,
They trusted him, poor fools,
Not knowing money was his God,
And fiddling was his tool.

They'd voted for him every time,
He'd ran as their MP,
Yet those good folk did honest toil,
While he just fiddled fees.

And then, to show complete disdain,
And demonstrate his greed,
He moved his lover in and claimed
She was 'essential needs'.

He fiddled with his mortgage
The fiddles they were many,
He did it when he bought a bulb
And when he 'spent a penny'.

He fiddled on the Lottery,
He did it when he peed,
For fiddling was his policy,
And fiddling was his greed.

And then the whisper travelled round
Amid the tabloid Press,
That other things did not add up,
In truth, they were a mess.

A snowflake of suspicion dropped
Upon those dirty deeds,
Then turned into a snowball when
The Press revealed his greed.

Bewildered people everywhere
Demanded of MPs,
Why did they claim for pretty ponds
And porno DVD's?

It turned out there were many rotten
Apples in the stash,
With tubby snouts in rotten troughs,
All gobbling up the cash.

Both Labour and Conservative
Were fiddling with delight,
And misappropriating funds,
With all their potent might.

Glib politicians everywhere
Who'd all been on the make,
Cried, "Diddling? Nay! We only made
The tiny odd mistake!"

The media dogged the petty crooks
And people yelled with ire,
That now the kidding had to end,
Boot out the diddling liars!

The public said, 'Goodbye! Let's bid
To nail the thieving gits!'
The people did not get their wish...
The guilty got away with it.

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Updated: May 10, 2016


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