Willow Walk

ballade of unexpected disaster

you haven't got the sense to make things short

when length must matter brevity's the key

to bridge the immense gap from is to ought

which many of us do not want to see

since clarity of vision makes us flee

straight to the place where no one wants to hide

afraid of all the facts that cannot be

but truth and passion have to coincide

 

your choices do not lead us to support

the cause that we learnt at our parents' knee

when we were told that it was dearly bought

and at that time all things seemed to agree

with what we wanted and no absentee

masters abroad were eager to deride

nor wail and whimper like a mad banshee

but truth and passion have to coincide

 

you think the vessel won't get into port

since nothing you commanded came to be

while those you ordered have to face a court

and some of then will hang from gallows-tree

or lie beneath a dark and angry sea

as fate and anguish either may decide

since neither time nor force will hear your plea

but truth and passion have to coincide

 

prince you have given cause to disagree

with all your actions but you've shown esprit

the problem is you've chosen the wrong side

the time has come to fight or else to flee

but truth and passion have to coincide

ballade of the good shepherd

out of the light some errant hope may creep

to stay harsh fears and keep in stern control

those bitter terrors which reign over sleep

since we are many miles short of our goal

nor can a single one afford the toll

for all our efforts we have come up short

one of our heads might yet adorn a pole

there is no justice in our rulers' court

 

our sense of history does not go deep

nor yet much further than the old school roll

for we want all our stories on the cheap

and honour is not something we extol

we want the stallion but not the foal

and find it is so easy to distort

the symbols that are written on the scroll

there is no justice in our rulers' court

 

in coming dark we will react like sheep

whose bleating the kind butcher must console

before he throws each body on the heap

or drinks another beer from his large bowl

the watcher might just find the whole thing droll

or take the scheduled slaughter for good sport

did he not see the shepherd on patrol

there is no justice in our rulers' court

 

prince you believe your subject has no soul

and can say nothing here of great import

but without him you cannot soon be whole

there is no justice in our rulers' court

time for a change

your duty is to serve without a pause

those who are worse than you and who must hurt

your heart and soul and give you justest cause

to overturn them and cast into dirt

all of their forces you must disconcert

those who expect that you are just a pawn

who do not think that you get your desert

night lasts its time but the earth turns to dawn

 

the ones who always get loudest applause

are those who in their way have to assert

entitlement both to tears and guffaws

it takes you little effort to exert

your claim to justice that is not covert

against a force that is not soon withdrawn

it is no easy matter to assert

night lasts its time but the earth turns to dawn

 

we find it written in a complex clause

that scholars have no reason to pervert

reason is subject to no human laws

we must to basic principles revert

and from its course the evil power divert

by dint of honesty as well as brawn

until the force of terror lies inert

night lasts its time but the earth turns to dawn

 

prince we are flattered you have not been curt

and have not chosen our hopes to subvert

these are the times when hopes are not yet gone

we might with many choices have to flirt

night lasts its time but the earth turns to dawn

twisted ballade

so much is owed to those who cannot speak

for all their silences and we who jest

at wounding others are the truly weak

too much to do as we go up the creek

computing meanings on our steady way

not knowing what it is we really seek

yet hoping all the time we will reach day

 

significance has now become antique

opinion is not subject here to test

and any question is dismissed as cheek

every approach can only be oblique

expressed as falsehood or as plain cliché

wondering now if any pain's unique

yet hoping all the time we will reach day

 

desire cannot lift us above the reek

of those who suffer nor lead us to rest

while bodies remain hale and bones don't creak

we are not yet exposed nor pierced by beak

nor yet the victims of unholy play

we're heading down the last losing streak

yet hoping all the time we will reach day

 

prince this is not the time for you to freak

at the great weakness of our mortal clay

we're fearful of the end of your critique

yet hoping all the time we will reach day

traffic control

this is the master key to the great gate
we hold it close and know it keeps desire
as far from us as we would modulate
our patient thoughts so much is on the wire
that we would not expect you to enquire
about such matters we must deem absurd
you would take after your departed sire
we are the keepers of the truest word

we will erase and then rewrite the slate
as long as you sing gravely in the choir
in tones that cheer and do not sneer or grate
you'll find that we are conqueror and buyer
and that our hand is over you entire
all that you have we have indeed conferred
your very heart we know is out for hire
we are the keepers of the truest word

we are the masters of what you call fate
and will place you into the line of fire
for our good reasons and not out of hate
since all you have we easily acquire
we see you as just one suit of attire
or just another member of the herd
who cares how well you play upon the lyre
we are the keepers of the truest word

prince on such matters you are no denier
but keep your eye upon the noble bird
do not with any fools seek to conspire
we are the keepers of the truest word

at the core of the heart

we give applause at first by mere reflex
but laughter comes from something truly deep
to think about this long would not perplex
the ones who come to this from little sleep
for there are things here that will not long keep
we know of this because of long complaint
out of the heart both gods and monsters creep
joy is the best part of the human taint

we are in this thing right up to our necks
and should be grateful that the hill's not steep
the better kind could be of either sex
we treat our equals as if they're a heap
and not plain people we cannot just sweep
all they're concerns aside without restraint
and not expect even a single peep
joy is the best part of the human taint

you may just think that your act is complex
and soon enough your profit hope to reap
and all your benefits to you annex
the overall result may seem quite cheap
above our heads you quite expect to leap
while keeping the appearance of a saint
no hostile thoughts into our minds should seep
joy is the best part of the human taint

prince you may find that you have cause to weep
as in the end your prospects turn out faint
we are not as you thought just humble sheep
joy is the best part of the human taint