Note: A title that begins with the word “The” is alphabetized according to the second word of the title. For instance, “The Hanged Man” is with the H’s not the T’s. Also, I treat spaces as nonexistent as pertains to alphabetization here.
Note: Authorship here stated is for the lyric, not necessarily for the song.
Note: Some lyrics here are stream-of-consciousness and quite likely would be manipulated or replaced were the song to be recorded anew. Rather than change them at this point I largely include what was sung at conception. All unreleased/unpublished lyrics are revisable, as are the song titles themselves.
Note: At the bottom of the document is a list of the titles of the published instrumentals.
Lyrics are added here as songs receive public release on vinyl, compact disc, Youtube, Bandcamp, et cetera. In anticipation of the HighHorse Demos being released shortly, they have been included. Not all the lyrics of the released “covers” are included. All Medford lyrics are published and copyrighted by BrowBeat, BMI.
To date this document includes the following lyrics:
Balmy Weather
Big (Myopian) Buck Boy Spins, The
Bobby-Billy
Capitol
Clash Of The Titans
Crème Of Oz
Dreamer’s Waltz
Exeunt: Janette With Baby And Ghost
Gene Pool Hall
Glory Hog
Golden Calf Played Rock ‘n’ Roll, The
Hanged Man, The
Holy Glow
In America The Other Day
I Will Die In Your Pocket
Jonesy Shows ‘Em How
Lady Godiva
Leah Hirsig
Lightning Tide
Living Under
Love Is Teasing
Lu-lu-cin-da!
Midsummernight’s Scene
Myth America
My Vehicle (She’s So Cherry Inside)
New Society
Night Of Halloween, The
Nocturnal Blonde [Shake-down Dub]
Palindrome
Panurge
Plaster Of Paris
Pretty Green Ice-Box Eyes
Scions Of Toadies
Sleepy Hamlet
Southeast-Asian-American Blues
Stay With Me
Strange New Glasses
Thanks For This Shade
There’s A Bell
This Is My Advice To You
Turn Into A Berry
When Winter Comes
Whirling Dervish
You Belong To Me
Young Gunslinger
Anywhere You Look
Leslie Medford, 5 June 1989, Montclair, Oakland, California
It could be anywhere you look, it could be inside your head.
It could be inside your head, it could be just where you look.
I was thinking about all the chances you took.
In a way it was like you were dreaming and suddenly realize you’re in a dream,
And you could do some powerful things if you really wanted to,
Just by using the things you are given to change in a way toward your ideal.
If you walk underneath the ringing trees and sit alone,
Listen for a voice to tell you nothing you don’t know.
When you told me you wanted to ride on my train—
In a warm metaphysical sense you were quick to explain, and I thank you.—
Where we looked for your bracelet you had never been.
But it seemed so familiar to find it by looking all around you.
It could be anywhere you look, it could be beside your bed.
It could be inside your bed, it could be just by the book.
If you walk underneath the ringing trees and sit alone,
Listen for a voice to tell you something you don’t know.
Apron Strings
Leslie Medford, August 1987, Montclair, Oakland, California
When I was just a baby, tied to the apron strings,
I said, “Mama, Mama, what you do to me?
“I know I am a bad boy – as bad as I can be –
“But Mama, Mama, won’t you set me free?”
My mother – feather duster – says, “If you go to sea
O Leslie, Leslie, what becomes of me?
Without my little sunshine shining down on me,
O Leslie, Leslie, it’ll break the heart of me!”
But Mother she untied me. The world I had to see!
“O Mama, Mama, don’t you cry for me.
“You know I’ll be a good boy – as good as I can be –
O Mama, Mama, I’m going to sail the sea!”
Heave-Ho!
I shortly found my fortune, unfortunately.
O Leslie, Leslie, the bottom of the sea.
And now I see my Mama. She’s looking down on me.
She said, “Leslie, I shoulda left ye tied to my apron strings!”
Balmy Weather
Leslie Medford, November 1989, Oakland, California
You know just how that little girl at school can make you feel.
It’s like a bell that’s in your chest that really wants to peal.
You’re always hoping that she’ll sit in the adjacent seat,
And when she passes in the hall your heart just skips a beat!
I tell ya,
I have felt the same, her very name takes on a mystic power.
After P.E. period you’re thinking of her in the shower.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful to just walk up to her and glower
“Isn’t it just balmy weather, whenever we’re together?!
“You know it’s right for us to make a date for Friday night.
“I’ll pick you up in my Camaro we’ll be outasight.
“I’ve got some weed, and three things you might like to know:
“I’ve got some blow and two tickets to the HighHorse show!”
I never thought it should be my destiny, my plight in life,
To have the sweetness of her always cut me like a knife.
I set my sights upon the crème de la cream:
A cheerleader for the football team.
I knew I had to make my play, the concert was a week away.
My posse had all had their say and spurred me on to be loquacious.
She is my way luscious creamy duchess helluv had to have her!
“Isn’t it just balmy weather, whenever we’re together?!
“You know it’s right for us to make a date for Friday night.
“I’ll pick you up in my Camaro we’ll be outasight.
“I’ve got some weed, and three things you might like to know:
“I’ve got some blow and two tickets to the HighHorse show!”
The day I was resolved to act was now at hand.
It dawned an awesome autumn blossom orange and grand!
With nervous purpose I walked to school
Hopin’ my favourite daughter doesn’t make me feel a fool!
Now here’s the best part:
Practicing my lines I didn’t hear the footsteps from behind,
But someone had caught up to me. It was her and she was stylin’!
Right beside me suddenly she flashed her lashes and said smiling,
“Isn’t it just balmy weather, whenever we’re together?!
“You know it’s right for us to make a date for Friday night.
“Without a doubt, you know I got it all worked out.
“Saturday off from my job at the coffee shop.
“You better believe this little girl knows how to rock!
“Now here’s the plan: I’m borrowing my big brother’s van.
“It’s totally cool! (I think we’ll be real comfortable!)
“I’ve got some weed, and three things you might like to know:
“I’ve got some blow and two tickets to the HighHorse show!”
The Big (Myopian) Buck Boy Spins
Leslie Medford, June 1983, Lodi & Oakland, California
I like his place and I like his pipes.
No way he be where winter ripens well
Aren’t those magnolias that live on your street
Beneath the city’s noxious heat?
Old justification sold back to your head.
It’s the only thing that keeps us dead.
Well, once we were ten of many many many many many men,
But now it’s just nine of good fine friends of mine.
(We’re all helping each other, right?)
So I guess your father was a vapid space,
And I guess I guess your mother was a shoreless shape.
But they bore it longer than was due
Their station or their circumstance.
(Hey, wait a minute, that doesn’t rhyme.)
And don’t he believe like a four mind man
Yeah, he’d rather be right here where I’m standing but
Does it not occur to him that
Life on earth surrounds each spin?
And this time is this day and everyday.
And this time is the toe to toe total turning away.
Yeah, life on earth surrounds each spin.
Yeah, the big myopian buck boy spins
Like a broken door on a broken hinge.
The world is too much with us and leaning on the horn.
The world is too much with us and the world is too much.
The world is too much with us, yeah, the world is too much with us
And it’s too much with us, yeah.
The world is too much.
The world is too much with us.
The world is too much with us and the world is too much.
The world is too much with us, yeah, the world is too much with us
The world is too much with us.
The world is too much.
The world is too much with us.
The world is too much with us and leaning on the horn!
Is history an empty rind?
While the Greek city states flourish
Mound builders inhabit the Ohio Valley.
Bobby-Billy
Leslie Medford, February 1989, Oakland, California
Put your ear to the ground and, don’t ya know it,
Sure as hell the earth is shakin’.
Must be a band down at the Station
Comin’ to sing the blues away ‘round here.
I’ll just pick up up a chick down at the depot.
She’ll be sharp as a razor on my wrist.
Ya have to take advantage of them
Comin’ all this way for some cheer!
Don’t stop me Jesus!
Not now I’m so close to home!
And sure as my name is Bobby-Billy,
I’ll be in the middle when the fun get’s started.
With the blood of my guts and a tattoo on my shoulder
I like to jump about when I’ve had some beer!
Now my daddy don’t like it when my friends and me party.
But he’s just jealous ‘cause he never done nothin’.
When he was kid they thought what was happenin’
Was catchin’ fireflies down Willesden Pier!
Stop me Jesus!
Little girls all alone!
Are ya gonna stop me Jesus!?!
Woah Lordy!
Can’t catch me Jesus,
Now that I’m so close to home!
Don’t touch me Jesus!
Little girls all alone!
Capitol
Leslie Medford, 5 June 1989, Montclair, Oakland, California
I was not the only ploughboy to leave the village for the capitol.
That summer work was where you found it
And the land outside the city needed to rediscover
The pure and gentle nature of the Indians on her skin.
The plants were flourishing like no others,
And when I saw you on the street
I knew that I was in the right place.
What’s that in the tapebox, ye little shame of sin!
We coupled highly in the capitol.
And if I could just hold you. One more time in my arms again
Like we did last Sunday, I’m sure that you will recognize
That we should be together all the time.
Clash Of The Titans
Leslie Medford, October 1984, Oakland, California
In this Clash of the Titans no surprise will arise tonight.
Then that feeling comes to me and it’s like I’m finally drawing a bead on life.
We cross the bridge to the city and my heartbeat picks up the time.
Can you feel it? Can you see it in my eyes that I’m trading on a fine line?
It’s getting faster now, brothers of mine!
Let’s climb the tower now, brothers of mine!
In the glare of the moment we owned all of space and time.
And the negative results were all dashed on the street behind.
Only you and I know how it feels to smash that borderline
Can you feel it? Can you see it in my eyes that I’m trading on a fine line?
It’s getting faster now, brothers of mine!
Let’s climb the tower now, brothers of mine!
Cream Of Oz
Leslie Medford, 1990, Montclair, Oakland, California
Touch the sky!
Every city’s pretty shitty if you ask me.
Suburbs are the latest locusts on the land.
But everybody’s gotta try and make a living,
Everybody’s gonna do the best they can.
Everyone is gonna have their own opinion.
City people think the country is a bore.
Me, I pay the pharaoh playing in the city.
Come down from the hills to make the rock ‘n’ roll.
Try it out.
Touch the sky!
If you need some money, if you need a bunny,
Find yourself a basement, make some rock ‘n’ roll.
Jimbo’s got a gizmo, Alain’s on the gallons,
Tape is rollin’ as I take the microphone.
Try it out!
Tape it to your mother, tape it to your father,
“God, you call that music?!”“That ain’t rock ‘n’ roll!”
You know you’re on to something, gonna get ‘em jumping!
Kids have got their fists up at the talent show.
I miss hearing distant freight train whistles blow.
Dreamer’s Waltz
Leslie Medford, February 1989, Montclair, Oakland, California
Tell me more about your dreams, my love.
Do you see yourself with me, my love?
Exeunt: Janette With Baby And Ghost
Leslie Medford, 1 April 984, Oakland, California
Ain’t this a package of rot, and it’s gotten to me.
Who is this phoney and what is he trying to be?
I have an inkling that soon he’ll be sinking into the tide,
But it wasn’t like you to turn your back on me.
I became a ship of light to turn a sign into a table
Where I wasn’t like before, now glad to add a cradle to the room.
But I thought that tomb was still occupied.
But who’s this between us that stands up and shines on our eyes?
All these are daffodils cloaking my room in disguise.
I have an inkling that there’ll be a sprinkling of everyone
And what I am ready to do is my biggest surprize.
I became a ship of light to turn a word into a fable,
Set my horses free to run from what must have seemed a dozen stable grooms.
Brushes and brooms all kicked aside.
The two cats in back of you, which one was it almost died?
You covered one with a sheet, carried the other inside.
Let this be a good time for me to take one good look around the room.
Isn’t there someone here ready to lay ghosts aside?
I became a ship of light to pull the flowers from the vases.
But everything about my place has changed, and who can just go back to being
A thousand things all right away?
Gene Pool Hall
Leslie Medford, December 1989, Montclair, Oakland, California
“Even God has a chink in his armour,” she said to her bow.
“I must find a splendid arrow,
“The hottest glowing missile ray to mingle with my snow.”
A pool of water lies below.
“Give it to me.”
And on that black pool a boat did row…
Hell no, not mine!
And on that pool a black boat does row.
Glory Hog
Leslie Medford, August 1983, Stockton & Oakland, California
There’s a terrible likeness between the head that’s in the vice and they that turn the screws,
That those who sit in satin zones and drink the fat off rat infested homes will use.
And if you think you understand the gist of this I’ll wonder what it was I missed.
It’s just a silly riddled rhyme that bears some thin relation to a kind of mind.
I’m back from the in-between!
I’ve gotta tell you all that I’ve seen!
You know, the grass here is just as green!
We’ve got the money and the people to do it!
Our market ain’t those with the power to eschew it, yeah!
Mister Sisyphus called today to say he’s finally on his way. He had a slight delay.
He should be rolling into town with an ample granite planet sample right at sundown.
In my glass office tower high and mighty I can swivel round and touch the sky.
I hope he’s got the dope! I need my Easter Island franchise project galaxy-wide.
I’m back from the in-between!
I’ve gotta tell you all that I’ve seen!
You know, the grass here is just as green!
We’ve got the money and the people to do it!
Our market ain’t those with the power to eschew it, yeah!
The Golden Calf Played Rock ‘n’ Roll
Leslie Medford, August 1988, Montclair, Oakland, California
The guy was dynamite!
He was a god!
The guy was dynamite!
He was a god!
The guy was dynamite!
He was a god
And he came and he walked all over this land.
And the streams around here had been licking at his skin
So he took from them pools of cool sensations,
Which he made real to us, schooled us like a yellow bus.
It was real. It was perfect transportation.
The guy was dynamite!
He was a god!
The guy was dynamite!
He was a god!
The guy was dynamite!
He was a god!
And he came and he rocked all over this land.
He would sing like a lark with a guitar and a harp,
He could coax milk from out the breasts of maidens.
Whether feathers or knives, he has touched our very lives
With the truth of a song that mirrors Nature.
The guy was dynamite!
He was a god!
The guy was dynamite!
He was a god!
The guy was dynamite!
He was a god!
And he came and he walked all over this land.
The Hanged Man
Leslie Medford, January 1987, San Francisco, California
[These are the lyrics to Version V, the never-completed studio version of the song.]
I grew up thinking I was free
But life sets snares so subtly
That every day along the way
I fill some gaoler’s vacancy.
My mother says I’ll die in vain,
And on the streets I’ll live again.
She says I spill until it’s gone
To find my well-earned/urned overdrawn.
So come on people, sway with me!
Are we not hanging from a tree?
This gibbet grows into the sky.
I know my mother’s lullaby.
Are you not swinging with the tide?
Do you now show? Do you now hide?
The sea’s sequential, don’t you see?
I’m swinging from the hanging tree.
But as I’m hanging by my foot
I am alive, and this is good!
You think my world is upsidedown,
But still the sun and moon are round.
She dressed and wore her feelings to the hilt.
You knew it felt like silk
That lay beneath her naked bum
And spread all the live long day.
We swung, we swayed, the pelvis it obeyed,
We dug towards an early grave.
If only by the thimbleful
I gave you my very soul.
A heavy load and truly, truly, truly,
The seed has overflown the bowl!
She stooped and plucked a single seed
And put in her pocket then.
“I shall go and plant it in the hay,
And plant it in the hay.”
And when that grain had grown quite tall,
Yeah, yeah, shoulder to a man,
He has took a galleon on the sea,
A galley on to Galilee.
And there he found growing from the ground
An angel of herbs and spice.
And she was such that he was offered much.
That he was offered much!
But he could not, should not, would not part with her.
Nay, nay, she was just too nice!
Would you ignore your feelings like a whore?
Your feeling’s like a whore?
And oceans roar from shore to shore
When we pass it to and fro.
My iris grew, and yes, my pupils do.
She takes me to the door!
A few good guys who can play it right.
Doo doo rock rock shake it up shake it up.
A few good guys who can play it right!
Doo doo rock rock shake it up shake it up!
Holy Glow
Leslie Medford, Spring 1982, Montclair, Oakland, California
We move slowly like the trees do grow.
Filling up the emptiness with feeling.
Reaching out towards the holy glow.
One is in the sky and one beneath us.
A circle is a symbol of a never ending hole.
We move quickly like the winds do blow.
Taking with them any need of reason.
Soon the dust falls from the flying crow.
Want to feel we are ourselves exploding.
A circle is a symbol of a never ending whole.
In America The Other Day
Lyric: Iain Ross-Marrs
Music: Leslie Medford, 18 August 1981, Montclair, Oakland, California
I walked into a room the other day
Off a main street in the U.S.A.
It was full of Vietnamese
In America the other day.
Some were standing, some were sitting.
Only one spoke English, and he was asleep.
I walked into a room in America the other day.
Nobody moved or snored
Stood and stared in America the other day
I couldn’t speak the language
In America the other day
In a room on a back street in a city on the coast.
I talked to a white racist
The other night on a bus
In America the other day
I talked to a white racist
The faces of races turned
The white man went on
In America the other day
The bus was driving through the night
White racist lost
Missed his stop (didn’t know it)
In America the other day
Went too far down the road
In America the other day
Could have been anywhere the other day
Should have been a long time ago
In America the other day
Could have been anywhere the other day
On a bus on a boulevard in a city on the coast
Could have been anywhere in America the other day
In America the other day.
I Will Die In Your Pocket
Leslie Medford, January 1985, Oakland, California
Sweet William sweats upon a stem,
His eyes upon a pond.
Why must we die all the time
Even when we are like swans?
Dodge citadel and land in Lethe’s lap.
Just picture lilies nap…
Why must we boast all the time
Even when we are like whores?
Sweet William sweats upon a stem,
His eyes upon a pond
(Ponder the situation.)
Why must we knock all the time
Even when we are like doors?
Why must we knock all the time
Even when we are like whores?
Why must we die all the time
Even when we are like whores?
Why must we die all the time
Even when we are like swans?
Jonesy Shows ‘Em How
Leslie Medford, 6 May 1988, Oakland, California
On a road seldom rode,
There lies a little town that guards a pass to the mountain.
Jonesy Jones called it home,
But now he’s left and he’s taken his guitar.
Ginnie Sue left there too.
Or should I say Jonesy took her away off the mountain.
Moved to town. Thought they’d found
True love through the shining mirror.
But soon the awful truth appeared:
The scene wasn’t really that happening.
Almost every time they went to a nightclub
The bands were really bad!
It was too dark, too loud, too smoky
And nobody smiled or talked.
The musicians simply couldn’t play, or they couldn’t write.
Yeah, I guess they couldn’t write!
Then one night Jonesy and Ginnie had a fight,
And he went out to drink his stout by himself.
When the band forced his hand,
And he had to let them know exactly how he felt!
“Just let me up on the stage,
I’ll show ya how ta do it!
“Wannabes these day’s don’t know nothin’ ‘bout the history of rock!
“Man, there’s so much good shit back there ya oughta open up and listen!
“Then ya wouldn’t give the time of day ta that fuckin’ plastic schlock!
“Yeah, that fuckin’ plastic schlock!”
Oh yes, he grabbed him a Gretsch and went oooooooooooooo!
Woah yeah…
Ooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaah!
Push, push, push it Jonesy show’s ‘em how!
Oh yes, Jonesy was blessed, he’s gotta fine fuckin’ true love!
Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on!
Hillbilly Jonesy’s gonna show us how!!!
Lady Godiva
Leslie Medford, May 1990, Montclair, Oakland, California
Lady Godiva had dreams
Of sharing the beautiful scenes
That rose in her head while she was in bed.
I think that you know
What I mean.
Lady Godiva was sweet!
With silver toe-rings on her feet.
Her thighs were the size of an elephant’s eyes.
O she was a spell
And a potion.
Lady Godiva woke up.
A dinner bell summoned to sup.
She vaguely could recall a dream of a ball
Where someone she met
She had wanted.
Lady Godiva could scream!
A cock interrupted her dream
Where she had been flying over the forest
To meet with someone
Now forgotten.
Lady Godiva went forth,
Uncovered her Coventry horse
And rode to the square with her golden hair
Reflecting the sun
Like a fountain.
Lady Godiva had eyes
All down the Coventry ride.
And no one lost sight of what was alright,
And many there were
Asked her blessing.
Lady Godiva was bright.
At sunset she stopped at the light,
Rode over the bridge and past the cathedral,
Where the bells peeled
Off their silence.
Lady Godiva went home
Took a shower and unplugged the phone,
Lay down on her bed and blew out the candles,
And sank into sleep
In a second.
Leah Hirsig
James Wright, 1987
The walls have faces, not just ears.
And nothing is the same as it appears.
Now rivers run where silence used to be,
And thunder crash, and that’s a cymbal with a capital C.
Night after night, sweet mother of the living light
I come when you call and cherish your name
And when you walk the wire you claim the fire and blame the fool
When honor and love are the same.
I never know’d your secret heart.
A hidden world so far apart.
And looking on with a heavy hand,
And all hot to harvest the wages of sin.
Night after night, sweet mother of the living light
I come when you call and cherish your name
And when you walk the wire you claim the fire and blame the fool
When honor and slut are the same.
Night after night, sweet mother of the living light
I come when you call and cherish your name
And when you walk the wire you claim the fire and blame the fool
When honor and slut are the same.
I wrap the night around me like a velvet robe,
And I stalk the raging stages like a starlit rogue.
And here today is gone tomorrow.
All the kindness left to borrow.
Night after night, sweet mother of the living light
I come when you call and cherish your name.
And when you walk the wire you claim the fire and blame the fool
When honor and love are the same.
Lightning Tide
Leslie Medford, November 1984, San Francisco, California
Extempore
In this dream we were riding along
Between the borders of right and wrong.
‘Twas there I understood a man
Who came betwixt the golden hand
And went upstream.
O so cheap it was!
And did the diamond skylight fall?! And hither diamond sky light fall.
Or like the trees that grew so tall.
Like it was our time and we would never make it like it was before.
Gross eye taking our time.
We stood as objects made so tall.
Our space was full like a lightning tide.
And like a true word we were taking away a live soul, taking a tide.
I see you before like a doll.
And is the goddess like a sun?
The abacus was on the wending finger snapping time to tide
When we were round
I see you before and it’s like a tide when we, once streaming away
I see you before like a toy.
Living Under
Leslie Medford, August 1981, Montclair, Oakland, California
The radio you clutch is drowned by the sirens wailing.
This is it! This is it, and the family is helter skelter.
Your running down the steps that lead to the private shelter,
But it won’t do you any good.
The radio announced that the nuclear dawn has arrived.
The radio announced that you’ve twenty-three minutes alive.
The radio announced that only undergrounders survive.
This is it! This is it, and the family is helter skelter.
Your running down the steps that lead to your private shelter.
The radio you clutch is drowned by the sirens wailing
And it won’t do you any good.
The radio announced that the nuclear dawn has arrived.
The radio announced that you’ve twenty-three minutes alive.
The radio announced that only undergrounders survive.
But it won’t do you any good.
Love Is Teasing
Leslie Medford, December 1985, Montclair, Oakland, California
Love is pleasing, love is teasing, when first it is new,
But it changes, re-arranges, like the morning dew.
Once we welcomed intercourse between us —
It was just a little while ago —
But now we’ve vanished from all speaking.
Love is pleasing, love is teasing, when first it is new,
But it changes, re-arranges, like the morning dew.
I can only marvel at the speed at which love’s arrow flies,
So swiftly it is sure to exit the other side.
Love is pleasing, love is teasing, love is pleasing, love is teasing,
Love is pleasing, love is teasing when first it is new.
Lu-lu-cin-da!
Leslie Medford, February 1989, Montclair, Oakland, California
You know, if Noah had to do it again we’d get on the Ark
And we’d be waving bye-bye.
Because there ain’t two people left on this earth who’re more in the dark,
And I say Alright!
Ain’t it righteous how she’s always just tryin’ to give me her love?
I say Amen to that!
Oh don’t you ever ever fly away m’m’my little dove!
Lu-lu-cin-da! She’ll be having a ball
Lu-lu-cin-da! Takin’ care of us all
Lu-lu-cin-da! She’ll be walkin’ the plank
Lu-lu-cin-da! Just for one little spank
Lu-lu-cin-da! And it’s shore liberty
Lu-lu-cin-da! It’s the way to be
Lu-lu-cin-da! What’s that muck on your face
Lu-lu-cin-da! It’s a matter of taste!
Lu-lu-cin-da! She’ll be having a ball
Lu-lu-cin-da! Takin’ care of us all
Lu-lu-cin-da! By the end of the cruise
Lu-lu-cin-da! We’ll be comin’ in twos
Lu-lu-cin-da! Seems she’s taken to heart
Lu-lu-cin-da! The multiplying part
Lu-lu-cin-da! Wow! She’s my pleasure dome
Lu-lu-cin-da! Now she’s shakin’ me, bakin’ me, takin’ me home!
Midsummernight’s Scene
Marc Bolan, 1967, John’s Children, Copyright Control
Petals and flowers…
In the park, getting dark, eating the heat.
There’s an eye in the sky, melting your feet.
You see a chick who starts to nick the petals and flowers.
She starts to joke and then provoke the Dance of the Hours.
It’s all down to a midsummernight’s scene.
It’s all down to a Shakespearean dream.
In her face there’s a place disfigured with love.
Her hands are white like the night encased in a glove.
She starts to swing and watches you nick (eunich) petals and flowers.
She starts to joke and then evokes the Dance of the Hours.
It’s all down to a midsummernight’s scene.
It’s all down to a Shakespearean dream.
Myth America
Leslie Medford, November 1989, Oakland, California
Do you believe…
You believe he…
Believe he chopped down a cherry tree…
Threw a guinea…
‘Cross the Potomac close by his home?
Jolly George in Olde Virginie!
The great man left a legacy that is a blessing.
A different George has come to power,
And it’s distressing!
I do believe…
Do believe she…
Believe she swimsuits me perfectly!
Wish I could reach…
Through my T.V.
And make the scene…
Pull out my congeniality!
My love is real!
Miss Virginia, I want to font your progeny!
Don’t mean to demean the perfect sex machine, Miss Awed Ginnie/Misogyny.
Awe…Awe…Awe…
Read my lisp, Myth America!!!
Exotic Miss Ogynist poses demurely.
She wants the crown to weigh her down for college purely.
Awe…Awe…Awe…
Read my lisp, Myth America!
The final batter’s box just begs for you there!
You step right up and send one screamin’ to the foul pole!
Prayin’ for the winds of change to push it fair!
New Society
Leslie Medford, 21 July 1981, Montclair, Oakland, California
I am trying to think of a new society.
I am looking into a new society.
I don’t know what it will have, but it won’t have this:
TV brainwashed teenagers with stinging piss.
Slave-trade running, power gunning governments of avarice.
God bamboozled people with their eyes on bliss.
Mathew, John, Luke, Marksmen who always miss.
The Night Of Halloween
Leslie Medford, 30 October 1966, Lexington, Virginia
[Song/Music: 3 July 1983, Lodi, California]
The owls are a-hootin’ and the bats take their flight,
‘Cause it’s time to be spooky, that’s Halloween night.
I was passing a graveyard by an old haunted house
Where the witches were stirring their brew,
But all I could hear was the squeak of a mouse
And the tumbling winds that blew.
Up in the trees in the light of that bluish moon,
An owl sat whistling the spookiest tune.
Along the fence a cat did crawl with his back arched way up high.
It was funny to see his outline across the dark blue sky.
Most of the trees were bare this night,
And the witches and goblins were quite a sight!
All of this happened on one scary night…
The night of Halloween.
Nocturnal Blonde [Shake-down Dub]
Leslie Medford / Shakespeare [Hamlet, 1603?]
The song (sans Shakespeare) was written on 20 February 1983, Stockton, California
First public performance (sans Shakespeare) 5 June 1983, Blackwater Café, Stockton, California
“Shake-down Dub” constructed LM, 17 April 1985, Montclair, Oakland, California
Ophelia: He is dead and gone, lady,
He is dead and gone;
At his head a grass-green turf,
At his heels a stone.
Queen: Nay, but Ophelia—
Ophelia: Pray you, mark.
(sings) White his shroud as the mountain snow—
Enter King.
Queen: Alas, look here, my lord.
Ophelia: Larded with sweet flowers;
Which bewept to the grave did go
With true-love showers.
King: How do you, pretty lady?
Ophelia: Well, God dild you!
Leslie: This is nocturnal blonde coming your way
We’ve got meaningful lawns
Rolled and written upon
And we will boost zenith towards a new day.
And we will boost zenith towards a new day.
Ophelia: Let in a maid, that out a maid, never departed more.
King: Pretty Ophelia!
Ophelia: Indeed, la, without an oath,
I’ll make an end on’t:
(sings) By Gis and by Saint Charity,
Alack, and fie for shame!
Young men will do’t if they come to’t;
By Cock, they are to blame.
Leslie: We’ll try being good nuisance for modern man
Drink, recycle the can
Read Joyce (rejoice!) even if banned
For you has this new jargon party been planned.
Ophelia: We must be patient.
Leslie: For you has this new jargon party been planned.
Ophelia: And so I thank you for your good council. Come.
Leslie: For you has this new jargon party been planned.
Ophelia: Tomorrow is Saint Valentine’s day.
All in the morning betime,
And I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine.
Then up he rose and donned his clo’es
And dupped the chamber door,
Let in a maid, that out a maid, never departed more.
King: Pretty Ophelia!
Ophelia: Indeed, la…
Leslie: As mind geese…
Ophelia: …without an oath
Leslie: …migrate towards
Ophelia: …I’ll make an end on it!
Leslie: …a warmer chicane,
We’ll be moving along,
Leaving you with this song,
That this unction engine has laboured to gain.
That this unction engine has laboured to gain.
That this unction engine has laboured to gain.
Queen: Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?
Ophelia: Say you? Nay, pray you mark.
Quoth she,
‘Before you tumbled me,
You promised me to wed!’
He answers:
‘So would I done, by yonder sun
And thou hadst not come to my bed!’
I hope all will be well. We must be patient,
But I cannot choose but weep
To think they should lay him in the cold ground.
And so I thank you for your good council.
Come, my coach!
Good night, ladies, good night.
Sweet ladies, good night.
Palindrome
Leslie Medford, December 1983, Oakland, California
No good winking at the fashionable plate,
She’s the least likely to make a break.
It’s not that your approach is too abrupt,
She hasn’t had the chance to size your wallet up.
History is written in the buff,
But by the time you read it it’s all window dressing stuff.
The mannequins may get a change of clothes,
But look, they’re in the self-same pose.
Panurge
Leslie Medford, 22 July 1986, Montclair, Oakland, California
Come you comely daughter, willingly to water the flower that is opening inside my head.
Nectar or your sunshine slips into my mainline. Give us this day our daily bread.
Due to our genetics two is copacetic, one can only get so high.
The earth is in your rhythm. Feel the synergism! Parch, and liquefy.
Virtue and the vice prez bicker over hairshirts towards accord that would never jell.
I give Barbara Eden able-bodied semen in the wishing well.
Your fetching pale complexion flushed with my injection. We were always meant to fly!
The past is prone to dozing with its petals closing, waving us bye-bye…
Plaster Of Paris
Leslie Medford, August 1981, Stockton, California
The road here turns inward and is at it for days.
A minotaur met/minor torment in an emotional maze.
Circus came crashing with the smell of esprit,
And time is a floppy disc wobbling haywire at me.
Plaster of Paris, how white your hair is!
Plaster of Paris, how white is your hair!
O wheel of Ferris, how white is your hair!
Plaster of Paris, how white your hair is!
Switchbacks and cul-de-sacs are the rule of the day.
You have to punch air-holes just to keep you in play.
And obiter dicta can confuse your resolve
If you don’t watch how the grandads of alabaster revolve.
Plaster of Paris, how white your hair is!
Plaster of Paris, how white is your hair!
O wheel of Ferris, how white is your hair!
Plaster of Paris, how white your hair is!
I am rounding the calendar,
A fleeting retreating blur.
I am sounding the tenterhook,
Played on a brassy horn!
Pretty Green Ice-Box Eyes
Leslie Medford, 8 December 1983, Oakland, California
Pretty green ice-box eyes, where are you going?
Wherever I can disguise my heartbreak showing.
Is that a place of sand, and is it snowing?
There is no forgetting and no end of knowing.
May I come with you for I love you dearly?
There is no room for you here, my way is weary.
My heart was hot ‘til it fell apart and disappeared.
And now you’ll have to wait another time.
Pretty green ice-box eyes, what the hell happened?
There was a cracking sound and all hell unbattened.
I mean what took place that I should find you so saddened?
Yes, it’s a secret place and I have a patent.
Well, may I come with you for I love you only?
There is no room for you here, my way is lonely.
My heart was hot ‘til it fell apart and disappeared.
And now you’ll have to wait another time.
Scions Of Toadies
Leslie Medford, March 1986, Oakland, California
Extempore
As we walked along beside our beckons us on
I ran along a-wonder while
The sea was shining like my other sister.
Up the while we walk towards a deafening crowd
And on the street it was below
I wandered for my life to see his facia
We painted faster away…
You were smart.
As I tripped upon my life protectors are gone
Lights shining green and blue…
We often wondered why it went so viral.
To you my tide and time I offered up what is mine
We came a distance between us all
Then shadow for my life until a mon space sheds
You stole my lighter again
You are smart.
All my friends would ask it came no longer so strange
And hip between the palliative time there was a light
More on my eyes we lost so vague poor lighting
Yes I’d say to you we are together again
And passing all the war away
I beg you for my time to say one question
Oh please, oh please
Please take my life on a line.
Sleepy Hamlet
Grant-Lee Phillips/Jeff Clark/Leslie Medford, November 1984, Galt, California
What constellation is that?
Sign of the cross-eyed cat.
We watch the (k)night come down
Your velvet gown.
Now sleepy Hamlet lies
Within the darkening skies.
Too late to say goodbye.
You and I have guessed
Where the sun will set next.
But will the sun ever sink
You think.
Now sleeping Hamlet lies.
No time to say goodbye.
And Jonah trembles in his fish
And makes a final wish
To see the light of day once more.
The cygnet holds the door…
Plastic swan on the lawn.
Now sleepy Hamlet lies
Beneath the darkening skies.
Too late to say your sad goodbyes!
Southeast-Asian-American Blues
Leslie Medford, December 1983, Oakland, California
You been nothin’ but trouble, dealin’ me double like I jus’ got off the boat.
You got me goin’ in circles like I must be rowin’ on some kinda moat.
I may be sinkin’ but you’re wrong if you’re thinkin’ you got the only thing afloat.
I was lost in the forest, not a sample star in sight.
I was lost and I was tired and the hoar frost was sure puttin’ on a bite.
And I came knockin’ at your door, you knew what for, but you just turned out your light.
I was behind you in line with a dollar and a dime just the other day.
Well I was so damn hungry an’ I was pleased as punch to pay.
Well what could I say when you just walked away with everything on your tray!
Now you should put that look in mothballs before it does somebody harm.
For you to wear a smile upon your face I suppose somebody has to twist your arm.
We’ll if your tryin’ to take a page from that book about Captain Hook it’s workin’ like a charm.
I don’t know why you have it in for me, is it because I’m from so far away?
Hey, well, we was just lookin’ for a peaceful place to stay.
I never knew it could be true, and to think that you grew up in the U.S.A!
Stay With Me
Leslie Medford, October 1978, Oakland, California
This is the heartache of my heart.
Here is the wound, and here the smarting.
This is as well my, well, my well of joy.
Here is my luckiness employing me.
Though in the sunlight I’ve often played,
This has been well-used too, this row of shade trees.
Where is your cradle and your last bed?
Here with these same notes my mother led me through.
Does sidewalk parquetry make you play?
Yes, and I’m dancing from grey to grey,
Because when I move the tune chooses to stay with me.
Strange New Glasses
Leslie Medford, March 1984, Oakland, California
Boogie to a mother sound of recurring spring,
There’s a lesson to be learned and a beat worth practicing.
Here, like blows from shadows, come unanswerable things.
Like you’re feeling so high but it’s not worth mentioning.
Do you know what I’m going to say?
Are my features from a foreign play?
Hey! Your car’s real nice but aren’t you from the riverbed too?
And though life has strange new glasses to try on every day
I’m not up to that right now, we’ve all got bills to pay.
If you love to travel there are still many ways.
The pagoda might have to go, but the girl-skin ottoman stays!
And who’s to say that I wasn’t there
Where the marsh grasses wave like hair?
Oh! And I swear, I swear I saw you at the riverbed too!
And anyway it’s not for you to say that I’ve been left bereft of feelings.
Thanks For This Shade
Leslie Medford, 18 August 1987, Montclair, Oakland, California
Thanks for this shade, you lovely old tree.
All of my life you’ve been a friend to me.
Rain or shine I lie supine underneath your ceiling.
Something in your fragrant breathing makes me think and dream…
There’s A Bell
Leslie Medford, 18 December 1983, Stockton, California
There’s a bell at the top of us spiralling down
There’s a bell on the top of your hill
There’s a bell by the side of a sound that shines
There’s a bell on your windowsill.
They were like two lovers entwining
On the best carpet in the house.
They burn a fire inside there nightly,
Isn’t that what it’s all about?
There’s a bell at the top of us spiralling down
There’s a bell on the top of your hill
There’s a bell by the side of a sound that shines
There’s a bell on your windowsill.
They were like two cakes of friction
Eaten together out of spite.
They thought dessert should have a reason,
They thought their favourite sense was sight!
There’s a bell at the top of us spiralling down
There’s a bell on the top of your hill
There’s a bell by the side of a sound that shines
There’s a bell on your windowsill.
This Is My Advice To You
Leslie Medford, January 1985, Oakland, California
This is my advice to you:
I would love to go for a ride on you.
Even if it is in a dream
I’ll be insisting that I’m not what I seem to you.
I am both sides of the coin
And I’m the worthless filler that has flipped for you.
I have lagged behind in your breast,
Rolled upon your floor until I came to rest.
Turn Into A Berry
Leslie Medford, June 1986, San Francisco, California
In the sky a cloud.
In the cloud a lake.
In the lake a fish
Granting you one wish.
And your wish, of course, is that you wish,
Any time you choose,
To have a similar opportunity
To change anything you want to.
She turned into a fairy
So I’ll be a berry,
And when she comes to suck me
We both shall make merry,
Cuz in that special moment
When feeling can foment,
We’ll ask ourselves the question,
And answer, “Most definitely, yes!”
You made yourself into a warm wind in my heart, yes you did!
On a cool cold September evening in the chill, I swear I saw you there.
I knew every time I tucked my eyes into ol’ tarot’s party (ha-ha) that you threw,
In that wind I put a seed of mine…
It’s meant for you!
The more that you can see it
The less you can taste it.
The more that you can taste it
The less you can see it.
The less that I can see it
The more I can feel it.
And yeah, the more I feel it
The more I believe it is true!
When Winter Comes
Leslie Medford, 27 November 1985, Montclair, Oakland, California
So where you bound?
I’m mountain bound
Eyes on the ground
I can’t turn around
Can’t turn around.
My dogs and me
My flock of sheep
We’ll climb up high
Before we sleep
Before we sleep.
The stars have spilled
Upon those hills
The air is clean
The grass is green
The grass is green.
Go tell Marie
I play for her
I sing for her
Beneath the fir
Beneath the fur.
I sing to sleep
My flock of sheep
My words to her
The moon will keep
The moon will keep.
Go tell Marie
To think of me
When she does see
The apple tree
The apple tree.
Go tell Marie
To think of me
When she does taste
Those apples sweet
Those apples sweet.
If it’s a boy
If it’s a girl
In wintertime
I’ll see our child
I’ll rock our child.
The trees will change
The air will chill
I’ll think of you
I’ll love you still
I’ll love you still.
The wind will chase
My flock of sheep
My dogs and me
To your embrace
To your embrace.
Long nights of love
We’ll lay as one
We’ll rock our child
When winter comes
When winter comes.
Whirling Dervish
Words: Jeffrey Clark & Leslie Medford, 23-24 September 1983, Lodi, California
[Music: LM, first public performance 24 September 1983]
Rolling snake eyes on a silly grave.
Crawling through used car lots on broken legs.
Doing the cha-cha for puppets there.
The church so quiet, the beggars beg,
And they beg…beg…beg…beg.
Hold me under. Hold me under now.
Whirling dervish won’t you kiss my lover?
Painted nails on a cross-town bus.
A new drug, a strip of leather,
So cold and so new, why don’t you do do do the things like you used to?
Why do they all want to look like us?
Painted nails on a cross-town bus.
Silly eyes, silly eyes…they turn into each other.
Hold me under. Hold me under now.
Whirling dervish won’t you kiss my lover?
Rolling snake eyes on a silly grave.
Crawling by harlots on broken dates.
Shooby dooby rama lama lama lama lama
Ha hari ha ha hari ha ha hari
Now my doctor he is in a coma.
Jesus eats chicken.
Chickens eat Jesus,
So…
Hold me under. Hold me under now.
Whirling dervish won’t you kiss my lover?
Painted nails on a cross-town bus.
Oh! And since you didn’t ask:
He was a black man
He was a white man
He was a black man
He was a white man.
Twice saved.
Took a pill and he fell in the pool.
I’d tell you more…
I’d tell you more
But it’s just too cruel!
You Belong To me
Leslie Medford, December 1989, Montclair, Oakland, California
Ginnie wrote her boyfriend, “Yes, it’s true,
“They say I have a heartache, indeed, I do.
“You belong to me, and your family tree.”
Grenvil got his horse out, tall and fine.
Sevren and the dogs walk close behind.
You belong to me, like a cherry tree.
Go down to the church to do it right.
Tied up in a Gordian knot so tight.
You belong to me, and the fiddlers three.
From the moment I saw you, love.
From the moment I saw you!
Young Gunslinger
Leslie Medford, March 1991, Montclair, Oakland, California
The young gunslinger practices his move
In front of the mirror lookin’ pretty smooth.
Go shoot the cans down by the lake.
You’re gonna show you’re no mistake.
Ridin’ range for Mr Relf
No way to make a name for yourself.
One of these days you’ll find the groove,
And then you’ll find some thing to prove.
Young Gunslinger…
Itchy trigger finger.
This boy goes down to the town…
Let’s follow him down.
First thing he does is check the Post Office wall.
His second stop is the Christmas Ball.
Next thing ya know he’s in a fight.
(Don’t have to ask who’s wrong or right.)
He called a local boy outside…
Two shots rang out and
One boy died.
Hey hey hey.
He rode away.
Young Gunslinger.
The sheriff organized a posse and they set right out on his trail.
Woah yeah!
But our hero shook ‘em as he took ‘em over hill and dale.
When the night had ended he had blended into the mountains there.
He was on his way to being somebody the world wouldn’t dare…
W’all right!
Young Gunslinger.
Young Gunslinger.
Young Gunslinger.
Itchy trigger finger…
The young gunslinger practices his move
In front of the mirror he sure looks smooth.
One of these days he’ll find the groove.
And then he’ll find some thing to prove.
Titles of released Medford Instrumental Compositions
Buspass To Budapest
Overture To Anaconda