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The following tracks are taken
from Frank's new album 'A Little Less Care',
it features the virtuosic talents of Chris Stone,
Holly Downes and Chris Silver,
and will be released in May 2008.
Travelling
Requiem
Murphy
Working
Hands
ALBUM LYRICS:
All lyrics © Copyright Frank Burkitt 2008
A
Little Less Care
Get the feeling, we’re doing something
wrong.
Not reading from the same page or singing the same song.
We’ve definitely lost our track somewhere,
No more enjoying the fresh air,
A little more instinct, a little less care,
What’s the point in being self aware?
The written rules are making awful dents.
Smashing what we have left of our common sense.
No need to follow religiously,
Policy’s a dirty word to me.
Take a walk in the tall trees,
Before they’re turned into form and fees…
Lie back on the grass, and count all those
questions,
You’re burning to ask.
And then let them out loud and clear,
For the whole wide world to hear.
Don’t forget that
you’re a free man.
Don’t let trust slip through your hands.
Think for yourself whatever’s the plan,
And hope that showers the land.
King
and Queen
Hold the phone, call off the search, I
no longer need to seek and dream,
The colour grey’s been replaced by blue and green.
I’m no longer, a one man band,
But a tour de force and we’ll be together where
e’er we stand…
And you’re like a convention of
angels,
That’s how it seems to me,
And we have all the time in the world,
To live like a King and Queen.
It’s so nice to be where we belong.
Humming life’s laborious song ain’t gonna
take too long.
In Fact I’m sure that time is gonna rush away,
We’re gonna wake up in fifty years and wonder what’s
happened to yesterday…
Murphy
He’ll brighten your day with his
whistling tune,
And he’ll drink a toast to you when the sun turns
to moon.
He’s the life and the soul of your watering hole,
He puffs on his pipe and he lives on the dole.
Where do you go when the taps don’t
flow,
Do you live a steady life of peace.
Soft morning rolls and slow Sunday strolls,
With that pipe of yours clenched in your teeth,
Or is it a little more active than that,
Going this way and that, without looking back.
I’ve seen you down with your friends on the shore,
You’re hauling those nets till you’re thirsting
for more…
Sing up, Murphy my man,
Stick around for as long as you can.
Sing up, Murphy my man,
The young and the old wanna shake of your hand,
Murphy my man.
No man is an island, you have to admit,
But you say you never have and you won’t ever fit.
You said ‘sitting by a wife was a very fine life,
But it caused you trouble and strife.’
You still remember sweet Mary May,
You remember the smiles on your white wedding day.
Ten years of marriage went by,
Then she packed up her things and she kissed you goodbye…
You’re wearing a frown, nine pints
down,
As you offer to buy the last round.
But the punters surround you, they feed you with drink,
So your wallet stays fastened and bound.
Like every night you don’t have
to try,
Not a single penny of yours needs to buy.
Little do they know how your money grows,
You’ve got more than enough, for all of life’s
woes.
Good
Times Gone
It’s beautiful above,
The sun and the clouds have fallen in love.
But it’s cold across the ground,
But looking up, some kind of warmth I’ve found…
I remember, these good times gone,
The weeks were quick and the days were long.
Remember life always carries on,
What doesn’t kill you makes you strong,
So march on.
The singers are out in force.
With a band full of brass, collecting money of course.
The whole town’s a sparkling white,
I’m shivering from head to toe but somehow it’s
alright…
As the smoke bellows out of my mouth,
I’m serenaded by the birds flying south.
As I sit on the bench in the park,
I’m reminded of the songs, the smiles, the drinks
and laugh…
Old Timers
What a lovely sound, when the pub door
swings,
Or old Tommy at the bar opens his mouth and sings,
His songs from the war that we’ve heard before
But we listen again to the Old Timers.
What a lovely sight when your glass fills
up with amber,
And hearing Jack wishing he was twenty years younger,
He moans and groans like he has before,
But we listen again to the Old Timers…
And then we break into a raging chorus,
We forget some of the lines but Tommy still adores us,
Cos it brings him back to the time
When he stood on the frontline and,
Dreamt, of hours spent, of good old drinking time.
What a lovely smell when Jimmy lights
up his Havana,
And reminisces about lovely Joanna,
His wife for twenty years, before she brought him so many
tears but,
We listen again to the Old Timers.
And what a lovely feeling when you’re
reeling,
To old Davey’s reel on pipe, drum and string,
And hearing Mary shout there’s table’s needing
clearing,
We dance again to the Old Timers…
And what a lovely taste, the last beer
of the evening,
You better drink up lads cos closing time is nearing,
And Davey stops, Jack moans and Tommy sings us home but,
We listen again to the Old Timers…
Travelling
Requiem
Seems to me that we have done all we have
to do here.
Seems to me that I’m not the only one singing the
blues here.
Wanna see this big, bad crazy world with you dear.
So hop on board, come along, what have you got to fear…
And we’ll be singing that song we
were singing again and again,
Do you remember the one we called our travelling requiem,
Cos life without you, just seems so indigo blue,
Baby girl I need you loving me.
We’ll have no need to rush we’ll
always take our time.
From the middle of the big black city to the edge of the
bright coastline.
We’ll drive a hundred miles along a lonely shore,
We’ll drive faster than any living man before…
Just keep your eyes on the road in front
of you,
Stick with me and you’ll be flying.
Don’t let your worries get all on top of you,
Just stick with me and you’ll be flying….
Working
Hands
In the lowlands of the east there lived
a boy who was coming of age,
He spent his days in his father’s fields learning
the farming trade,
He asked one day father, why must I tend the corn?
His father said that’s the way it’s been,
for all the sons new born…
And at that point the boy looked down
and he saw the mud on his shoes,
And he felt a pain that for the rest of his days he’d
be labouring away his blues,
He knew there was a world beyond his father’s golden
land,
And he swore he’d be the first of the sons to rest
his working hands.
So the boy stood firm and he said to his
father I must not leave this earth,
Having only seen the two corn fields that made our families
worth,
And then his father said let me tell you what my father
told me,
Make friends with the land my boy and you shall truly
be free…
And at that point the boy looked down
and he saw the mud on his shoes,
And he felt a pain that for the rest of his days he’d
be labouring away his blues,
He knew there was a world beyond his father’s golden
land,
And he swore he’d be the first of the sons to rest
his working hands.
Despite the wise words of his father ringing
out loud and clear,
The whisper of the dusty trail was louder in his ear,
So as he turned to shake his father’s earth stained
hand,
He said farewell to the endless hours of working the land…
And the days went by and the boy forgot
the sight of the mud on his shoes,
And he lived a life so rich and full he thought he was
rid of the blues,
He knew there was a world beyond his father’s golden
land,
And he swore he’d be the first of the sons to rest
his working hands.
Come back come back his mother cried,
for you father can’t remain,
The keeper of the land my boy, for he has succumbed to
pain,
No longer can his old limbs push the plough,
We are praying everyday that you will be homeward bound…
And at that point the boy looked up and
he knew that he must return,
The thought of losing the land and his father made his
stomach churn,
He’d had his fill of the world beyond his father’s
golden land,
But now he knew he must return to use his working hands.
Many suns have set since his father’s
passing day,
And now the boy finds a son of his own desperate to say,
Father I must leave the land and let my soul be free,
I’m afraid son what you see before you is your destiny…
And at that point the boy looked down
and he saw the mud on his shoes,
And he felt a pain that for the rest of his days he’d
be labouring away his blues,
He knew there was a world beyond his father’s golden
land,
And he swore he’d be the first of the sons to rest
his working hands.
Military
Band
Mary-Louise, I must play my part,
I don’t wanna leave you with a lonely heart.
With my bugle in hand, to a foreign land,
I will play the reveille in the military band.
Down at the docks, you here the folk cheer,
But you wave the ship goodbye and wipe away a tear.
I’ll be back to take your hand, on this warm, familiar
land,
But for now I’ll play the march in the military
band…
And I’ll play loud, with all of
my might.
While I think about you crossing off those days and nights,
And with every, gunshot and blast…
I think, will you be flying your flag at half mast.
We’re dug in deep, but we still
play in time,
The drummer waits of word from home and so do I.
God bless your writing hand, it’s all I can stand,
The questions that you ask of the military band.
The truth of it is, it’s not what
we thought.
The smiles of ambition are now tears of war.
Poor old Charlie Samms, was run-through by hand,
That’s one less brave player in the military band…
And I’ll play loud, with all of
my might.
While I think about you crossing off those days and nights,
And with every, gunshot and blast…
I think, will you be flying your flag at half mast.
You wouldn’t believe how quick it
gets dark,
The best time for attack they say, so play the march!
But as man after man, does the best he can,
I’m thinking what’s the point, in a military
band…
And I’ll play loud, with all of
my might.
While I think about you crossing off those days and nights,
And with every, gunshot and blast…
I think, will you be flying your flag at half mast.
Safe
and Sound
Lay in the long grass
and whisper me a line or two.
I can see the summer days help to bring the words through.
As long as there’s a haze on the ground
I’m gonna spend every minute I can with you safe
and sound,
Some kind of peace with you, I’ve
found I’m safe and sound.
I’m swept away, blown around by
the city breeze.
But as long as you’re whispering, it won’t
take long for the pain to ease.
And as we see the shadows creeping up the craggy wall,
The deep blue evening sky still impresses us all,
Some kind of peace with you, I’ve
found I’m safe and sound.
As I lay back on the hot stone, I’m
as happy as a man can be.
But we know we’ll have to leave this place and head
back down to town eventually.
But for now we’ll sing, we’ll drink, we’ll
talk and we’ll play our merry tune,
It’s our way of saying goodbye to the sun, and hello
to the moon.
Some kind of peace with you, I’ve
found I’m safe and sound.
A long way from the haven, it’s
dark but I can still make out the grey.
So take me home, kiss me goodnight and wake me up at the
return of day.
And as the laughter and the sun and warmth all but subsides,
I’m feeling all kinds of fine cos with you I’m
going inside.
Some kind of peace with you, I’ve
found I’m safe and sound.
A
Fine Drink
Thank you dear old friend, for listening
to my story.
It was full of doom and gloom, with nothing in it for
you,
The beginning, the middle and the end was blue…
Can I buy you an ale,
As a thank you for listening to my tale.
Not many would, in fact you’re the first,
So a fine drink for you on me.
Thank you dear old friend, for telling
me your story.
It was full of songs and laughs, and happy days on the
grass,
A charming poem of times past…
Can I buy you an ale,
As a thank you for telling me your tale.
Pleasing to hear and so easy on the ear,
So a fine drink for you on me.
A deep red summer sky,
Shines above for you and I.
So dear old friend looks like the trains passed,
Looks like our story’s at an end….
 Hear
more music from Frank at his myspace page:
myspace.com/frankburkitt
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