Willow Walk

about democracy

what meanings truth and justice had

we've understood and will not pass

that bill was paid at stalingrad

 

(not the first time) and we are glad

to see reflected in the glass

what meanings truth and justice had

 

in eyes that are forever sad

seeing the bones beneath the grass

that bill was paid at stalingrad

 

for generations good and bad

by that immense levée-en-masse

(what meanings truth and justice had)

 

so demos spoke and thus forbade

the foolish claims of herrenrass

that bill was paid at stalingrad

 

so many folk might think us mad

to speak of mankind as one class

what meanings truth and justice had

that bill was paid at stalingrad

the red bird's haunting song

no one recalls the red bird's haunting song

in dead of winter but it marks the spring

the creature's small and yet its voice is strong

 

what we discover when we fall among

the hordes who struggle to avoid the sting

(no one recalls the red bird's haunting song

 

but has a sense that they are drawn along

into the silence) is the sharp high ring

the creature's small and yet its voice is strong

 

enough to to let  us know that we belong

in this strange place where all our hopes may cling

no one recalls the red bird's haunting song

 

and yet when choruses turn to a throng

we want so urgently our hearts to fling

the creature's small  and yet its voice is strong

 

enough for us to know it is not wrong

to feel its force and want ourselves to sing

no one recalls the red bird's haunting song

the creature's small and yet its voice is strong

when good folk all agree

long toil will end when good folk all agree

on what is just and how the work divides

and on this morning we all wake up free

 

so many years that each lack harmony

we seemed only to wait for changing tides

long toil will end when good folk all agree

 

on how we fare and how we stand to see

the ones who move or that which still abides

and on this morning we all wake up free

 

the music plays with skill and constancy

while one who would have punished simply hides

long toil will end when good folk all agree

 

on codes of honour sitting by the sea

watch as the last bad soldier changes sides

and on this morning we all wake up free

 

so now we gather under an old tree

to give our promises and choose our guides

long toil will end when good folk all agree

and on this morning we all wake up free

the seats of honour and the high domain

all of our answers turn out to be true

though journeys start and end in pouring rain

there comes a time to pause and take the view

 

our knowledge is constrained by what is new

not by the old nor yet by thoughts of gain

all of our answers turn out to be true

 

since what we've done must constitute a coup

in favour of the honest and the plain

there comes a time to pause and take the view

 

of all the folk whose minds may yet construe

the simple vision that when we entrain

all of our answers turn out to be true

 

both to our hearts and to those who are due

the seats of honour and the high domain

there comes a time to pause and take the view

 

when all is clear and the noon sky full blue

we are redeemed by virtue of our pain

all of our answers turn out to be true

there comes a time to pause and take the view

fate may be a liar

here is a dragon that breathes golden fire

burning a message across the dull sky

telling us all that fate may be a liar

 

although we are the ones who still aspire

to honour in a world where all seems dry

here is a dragon that breathes golden fire

 

a vision that combines beauty and ire

reminder that some final truth is nigh

telling us all that fate may be a liar

 

that in the end both pain and joy are higher

than we expect or might ask to supply

here is a dragon that breathes golden fire

 

a mark of fear but still it is not dire

there's more above than we know to espy

telling us all that fate may be a liar

 

that is the burden of the early crier

who warns that those who care will come to die

here is a dragon that breathes golden fire

telling us all that fate may be a liar

at the commencement

at the commencement all the world was dared

for a small prize a kiss  and then a hope

so that the magic feeling would be shared

 

not by the ones whose  urgency was feared

as they came running down the morning slope

at the commencement all the world was dared

 

just so they could with justice be prepared

for honourable parting we elope

so that the magic feeling would be shared

 

in proper form and time by those who cared

more deeply and were happy they could cope

at the commencement all the world was dared

 

yet we survive while all the children stared

as new dawn seemed to offer yet more scope

so that the magic feeling would be shared

 

by all the folk who knew they had been spared

to hold with strength what they could barely grope

at the commencement all the world was dared

so that the magic feeling would be shared

fever

running into darkness and the grey wall

in the strange quicksand which is some dark trap

you have no choice you must cry out and fall

 

yet this is not the time for you to bawl

at life's injustice and go off the map

running into darkness and the grey wall

 

with none to hear as the hard sun stands tall

you have the strength to go another lap

you have no choice you must cry out and fall

 

but will get up though none may hear your call

since there is still a way out of the crap

running into darkness and the grey wall

 

even though light itself may seem to maul

your heart and no one ever gives a rap

you have no choice you must cry out and fall

 

struggle again to show you have the gall

to face down all the ravages of hap

running into darkness and the grey wall

you have no choice  you must cry out and fall

the message

we heard a clear message loud as a gun

roll from the speaker who stood above

bright as a sovereign in the setting sun

 

there’s what we have asked for much has been done

the structure is falling just one more shove

we heard a clear message loud as a gun

 

and we are not startled though it may stun

having already seen fist in the glove

bright as a sovereign in the setting sun

 

pleasant words told us of miles left to run

with hearts of a lion and souls of a dove

we heard a clear message loud as a gun

 

out of the vision the teller had spun

came more hope than any of us had thought of

bright as a sovereign in the setting sun

 

the story of all that was worth being won

the magic and beauty of our common love

we heard a clear message loud as a gun

bright as a sovereign in the setting sun

within this pleasant air

deep in the forest withies climb each tree

birds cry our presence we are monsters here

beneath our feet the little creatures flee

 

in each small clearing there's not much to see

the light of morning seems harsh and austere

deep in the forest withies climb each tree

 

wild pines in the high branches in the lee

of the bright breezes which bring so much cheer

beneath our feet the little creatures flee

 

much further in avoiding the decree

of the hard fate that they all seem to fear

deep in the forest withies climb each tree

 

commensal vision where we might agree

on how life comes both to survive and share

beneath our feet the little creatures flee

 

while we explain how these things come to be

in dappled light within this pleasant air

deep in the forest withies climb each tree

beneath our feet the little creatures flee

by the time it matters

wisdom is but sharp experience read

against the peal of years and given weight

still by the time it matters we are dead

 

so all your chiding some good thought has bred

within each mind before the hour turns late

wisdom is but sharp experience read

 

in the cold pages of the tale of dread

as drear hours pass until we reach the gate

still by the time it matters we are dead

 

and all good judgment given up and fled

since it is past all moment for debate

wisdom is but sharp experience read

 

as text to the dark music in each head

that echoes in deep tones against the slate

still by the time it matters we are dead

 

therefore avoiding all those who have fled

into the perils of a different state

wisdom is but sharp experience read

still by the time it matters we are dead