(no subject)

[den]

We are the Village Green Preservation Society
God save Donald Duck, Vaudeville and Variety
We are the Desperate Dan Appreciation Society
God save strawberry jam and all the different varieties
Preserving the old ways from being abused
Protecting the new ways for me and for you
What more can we do?
We are the Draught Beer Preservation Society
God save Mrs. Mopp and good Old Mother Riley
We are the Custard Pie Appreciation Consortium
God save the George Cross and all those who were awarded them
We are the Sherlock Holmes English Speaking Vernacular
Help save Fu Manchu, Moriarty and Dracula
We are the Office Block Persecution Affinity
God save little shops, china cups and virginity
We are the Skyscraper condemnation Affiliate
God save tudor houses, antique tables and billiards
Preserving the old ways from being abused
Protecting the new ways for me and for you
What more can we do?
God save the Village Green.

Ray Davis
The Kinks 1968

Comments

[weyrdbird.livejournal.com]

God Save the Village Green!:D
***
They put a parking lot on a piece of land
Where the supermarket used to stand.
Before that they put up a bowling alley
On the site that used to be the local palais.
That's where the big bands used to come and play.
My sister went there on a saturday.

Come dancing,
All her boyfriends used to come and call.
Why not come dancing, it's only natural?

Another saturday, another date.
She would be ready but she'd always make him wait.
In the hallway, in anticipation,
He didn't know the night would end up in frustration.
He'd end up blowing all his wages for the week
All for a cuddle and a peck on the cheek.

Come dancing,
That's how they did it when I was just a kid,
And when they said come dancing,
My sister always did.

My sister should have come in a midnight,
And my mum would always sit up and wait.
It always ended up in a big row
When my sister used to get home late.

Out of my window I can see them in the moonlight,
Two silhouettes saying goodnight by the garden gate.

The day they knocked down the palais
My sister stood and cried.
The day they knocked down the palais
Part of my childhood died, just died.

Now I'm grown up and playing in a band,
And there's a car park where the palais used to stand.
My sister's married and she lives on an estate.
Her daughters go out, now it's her turn to wait.
She knows they get away with things she never could
But if I asked her I wonder if she would,

Come dancing,
Come on sister, have yourself a ball.
Don't be afraid to come dancing,
It's only natural.

Come dancing,
Just like the palais on a saturday.
And all her friends will come dancing
Where the big bands used to play.

[hafoc.livejournal.com]

I have walked in LA, San Francisco, New York, Toronto, Paris, London.
I have seen the Grand Canyon from both rims, the Painted Desert, Yellowstone, the prairie, Yosemite, 1500 year old sequoia trees, waded in the Atlantic and the Pacific, spent a summer on an island in the Caribbean and another in the Rocky Mountains, driven across the continent three or four times, eaten a bowl of chili within sight of the Alamo, seen where Judge Roy Bean provided his own brand of law, walked the battlefields at Antietam and Gettysburg and Harper's Ferry.
I've met Senators and had a beer with a man who walked on the Moon.
But the most perfect moment of happiness in my life was drinking a cup of coffee at the table in my sister's back yard and chatting with her, early on a sunny, cool morning.

(Hmm. That could almost be a poem itself. :D )