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Pogues
Pogues


Информация
Откуда Kings Cross, London, England
Жанры Rock
Celtic Punk
Fusion
Folk Punk
Годы 1982—н.в.
Сайт Website
Состав
Shane MacGowan
James Fearnley
Spider Stacy
Jeremy 'Jem' Finer
Andrew Ranken
Phil Chevron
Terry Woods
Darryl Hunt
Бывшие участники
Joe Strummer
Cait O'Riordan
Jamie Clarke
Dave Coulter
James McNally



Music World  →  Тексты песен  →  P  →  Pogues  →  Дискография  →  Red Roses for Me

Альбом Pogues


Red Roses for Me (1984)
1984
1.
2.
The Battle of Brisbane
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
Dingle Regatta
11.
12.
13.
. . .


In the rosy parks of England
We'll sit and have a drink
Of VP wine and cider 'til we can hardly think
And we'll go where the spirits take us
To heaven or to hell
And kick up bloody murder in the town we love so well

Going transmetropolitan
From the dear old streets of King's Cross
To the doors of the ICA
Going transmetropolitan
We'll drink the rat's piss, kick the shite
And I'm not going home tonight

From Brixton's lovely boulevards
To Hammersmith's sightly shores
We'll scare the Camden Palace poofs
And worry all the whores
There's leechers up in Whitehall
And queers in the GLC
And when we've done those bastards in
We'll storm the BBC

Going transmetropolitan
From Surrey Docks to Somers Town
With a KMRIA
Going transmetropolitan
We'll drink the rat's piss, kick the shite
And I'm not going home tonight

From a 5 pound bet in William Hills
To a Soho sex-shop dream
From a fried egg in Valtaro's
To a Tottenham Court Road ice cream
We'll spew and lurch, get nicked and fixed
On the way we'll kill and maim
When you haven't got a penny, boys
It's all the bloody same

Going transmetropolitan
From Pentonville Road on a sunset eve
To the beauty that's Mill Lane
Going transmetropolitan
We'll drink the rat's piss, kick the shite
And I'm not going home tonight

This town has done us dirty
This town has bled us dry
We've been here for a long time
And we'll be here 'til we die
So we'll finish off the leavings
Of blood and glue and beer
And burn this bloody city down
In the summer of the year

Going transmetropolitan
From Arlington House with a 2 bob bit
To the Scottish shores today
Going transmetropolitan
We'll drink the rat's piss, kick the shite
And I'm not going home tonight

. . .

The Battle of Brisbane

[Нет текста]

. . .


A hungry feeling
Came o'er me stealing
And the mice were squeeling
In my prison cell
And that auld triangle went jingle-jangle
All along the banks of the Royal Canal

Oh! To start the morning
The warden bawling
"Get up out of bed, you! And Clean out your cell!"
And that auld triangle went jingle-jangle
All along the banks of the Royal Canal

Oh! the screw was peeping
And the loike was sleeping
As he lay weeping
For his girl Sal
And that auld triangle went jingle-jangle
All along the banks of the Royal Canal

On a fine Spring evening
The loike lay dreaming
And the sea-gulls were wheeling
High above the wall
And that auld triangle went jingle-jangle
All along the banks of the Royal Canal

Oh! the wind was sighing
And the day was dying
As the loike lay crying
In his prison cell
And that auld triangle went jingle-bloody-jangle
All along the banks of the Royal Canal

In the women's prison
There are seventy women
And I wish it was with them
That I did dwell
Then that auld triangle could go jingle-jangle
All along the banks of the Royal Canal

. . .


(The Pogues' Version)------------------------------------
Says my aul' wan to your aul' wan"Will ye go to the Waxies dargle?"Says your aul' wan to my aul' wan,"I haven't got a farthing.I went up to Monto townTo see Uncle McArdleBut he wouldn't give me a half a crownFor to go to the Waxies dargle."
What will ya have?!I'll have a pint!I'll have a pint with you, Sir!And if one of ya' doesn't order soonWe'll be chucked out of the boozer!
Says my aul' wan to your aul' wan"Will ye go to the Galway races?"Says your aul' wan to my aul' wan,"I'll hawk me aul' man's braces.I went up to Capel StreetTo the Jewish moneylendersBut he wouldn't give me a couple of bobFor the aul' man's red suspenders."
Chorus
Says my aul' wan to your aul' wan"We got no beef or muttonIf we went up to Monto townWe might get a drink for nuttin'"Here's a nice piece of adviceI got from an aul' fishmonger:"When food is scarce and you see the hearseYou'll know you have died of hunger."
Chorus x2

(Waxie's Dargle)------------------------------------------
Says my aul' wan to your aul' wan"Will ye come to the Waxies dargle?"Says your aul' wan to my aul' wan,"Sure I haven't got a farthing.I've just been down to Monto townTo see Uncle McArdleBut he didn't have half a crownFor to go to the Waxies dargle."
What are ye having, will ye have a pint?Yes, I'll have a pint with you, sir,And if one of us doesn't order soonWe'll be thrown out of the boozer.
Says my aul' wan to your aul' wan"Will ye come to the Galway races?"Says your aul' wan to my aul' wan,"With the price of my aul' lad's braces.I went down to Capel StreetTo the Jew man moneylendersBut they wouldn't give me a couple of bob onMy aul' lad's suspenders."
Chorus
Says my aul' wan to your aul' wan"We have no beef or muttonBut if we go down to Monto townWe might get a drink for nuttin'"Here's a piece of good adviceI got from an aul' fishmonger:"When food is scarce and you see the hearseYou'll know you have died of hunger.

. . .


On the first day of March it was raining
It was raining worse than anything that I have ever seen
I drank ten pints of beer and I cursed all the people there
And I wish that all this raining would stop falling down on me

And it's lend me ten pounds, I'll buy you a drink
And mother wake me early in the morning

At the time I was working for a landlord
And he was the meanest bastard that you have ever seen
And to lose a single penny would grieve him awful sore
And he was a miserable bollocks and a bitch's bastard's whore

And it's lend me ten pounds, I'll buy you a drink
And mother wake me early in the morning

I recall we took care of him one Sunday
We got him out the back and we broke his fucking balls
And maybe that was dreaming and maybe that was real
But all I know is I left that place without a penny or fuck all

And it's lend me ten pounds, I'll buy you a drink
And mother wake me early in the morning

But now I've the most charming of verandahs
I sit and watch the junkies, the drunks, the pimps, the whores
Five green bottles sitting on the floor
I wish to Christ, I wish to Christ
That I had fifteen more

And it's lend me ten pounds, I'll buy you a drink
And mother wake me early in the morning

And it's lend me ten pounds, I'll buy you a drink
And mother wake me early in the morning

The boys and me are drunk and looking for you
We'll eat your frigging entrails and we won't give a damn
Me daddy was a blue shirt and my mother a madam
And my brother earned his medals at Mai Lei in Vietnam

And it's lend me ten pounds and I'll buy you a drink
And mother wake me early in the morning

On the first day of March it was raining
It was raining worse than anything that I have ever seen
Stay on the other side of the road
'Cause you can never tell
We've a thirst like a gang of devils
We're the boys of the county hell

And it's lend me ten pounds and I'll buy you a drink
And mother wake me early in the morning

And it's lend me ten pounds and I'll buy you a drink
And mother wake me early in the morning

. . .


Dear dirty London in the pouring rain
I wish to God I was back on the sea again
Though that belongs to the world of never will be
There was never a wilder bastard than me on the sea
I could fuck all the whores in damnation me boys
Though they wriggled and hollered and made a great noise
Then I'd drink till I stank and then drink plenty more
And I won't go down to the sea any more
But if I had ten pounds then I'd raise a loud cheer
And I'd toast all me neighbours both distant and dear
And I'd shoot back great belly-crippling buckets of beer
And a pox and a curse on the people round here
Wouldn't give you me the price of a half pint of beer
Wouldn't give you me the price of a cup of good cheer
A pox and a curse on the people round here

A man's ambition must indeed be small
To write his name upon a shithouse wall
But before I die I'll add my regal scrawl
To show the world I'm left with sweet fuck all
And when all of us bold shithouse poets do die
A monument grand they will raise to the sky
A monument made just to mark our great wit
A monument of solid shit now me boys
I met with Bill James we fought over crusts
I called him a whore and he booted me crotch
Then we shared out the jack and we thought it a treat
The compliments pass when the quality meet
The compliments pass when the quality meet
The compliments pass when the quality meet
The compliments pass when the quality meet

. . .


I like to walk in the summer breeze
Down Dalling Road by the dead old trees
And drink with my friends
In the Hammersmith Broadway
Dear dirty delightful old drunken old days


Then the winter came down and I loved it so dearly
The pubs and the bookies where you'd spend all your time
And the old men that were singing
When the roses bloom again
And turn like the leaves
To a new summertime


Now the winter comes down
I can't stand the chill
That comes to the streets around Christmas time
And I'm buggered to damnation
And I haven't got a penny
To wander the dark streets of London


Every time that I look on the first day of summer
Takes me back to the place where they gave ECT
And the drugged up psychos
With death in their eyes
And how all of this really
Means nothing to me


Now the winter comes down
I can't stand the chill
That comes to the streets around Christmas time
And I'm buggered to damnation
And I haven't got a penny
To wander the dark streets of London


Every time that I look on the first day of summer
Takes me back to the place where they gave ECT
And the drugged up psychos
With death in their eyes
And how all of this really
Means nothing to me


Now the winter comes down
I can't stand the chill
That comes to the streets around Christmas time
And I'm buggered to damnation
And I haven't got a penny
To wander the dark streets of London
To wander the dark streets of London
To wander the dark streets of London

. . .


Last night as I slept
I dreamt I met with behan
I shook him by the hand and we passed the time of day
When questioned on his views
On the crux of life’s philosophies
He had but these few clear and simple words to say

I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing

I have cursed, bled and sworn
Jumped bail and landed up in jail
Life has often tried to stretch me
But the rope always was slack
And now that I’ve a pile
I’ll go down to the chelsea
I’ll walk in on my feet
But I’ll leave there on my back

Because I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing

Oh the words that he spoke
Seemed the wisest of philosophies
There’s nothing ever gained
By a wet thing called a tear
When the world is too dark
And I need the light inside of me
I’ll walk into a bar
And drink fifteen pints of beer

Iam going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing

I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
Where streams of whiskey are flowing

. . .


(The Pogues' Version)-----------------------------------------
In eighteen hundred and forty-oneThe corduroy breeches I put onMe corduroy breeches I put onTo work upon the railway, the railwayI'm weary of the railwayPoor Paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-twoFrom Hartlepool I moved to CreweFound myself a job to doA working on the railway
I was wearing corduroy breechesDigging ditches, pulling switchesDodging pitches, as I wasWorking on the Railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-threeI broke the shovel across me kneeI went to work for the companyOn the Leeds to Selby railway
I was wearing corduroy breechesDigging ditches, pulling switchesDodging pitches, as I wasWorking on the Railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-fourI landed on the Liverpool shoreMy belly was empty me hands were rawWith working on the railway, the railwayI'm sick to my guts of the railwayPoor Paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-fiveWhen Daniel O'Connell he was aliveWhen Daniel O'Connell he was aliveAnd working on the railway
I was wearing corduroy breechesDigging ditches, pulling switchesDodging pitches, as I wasWorking on the Railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-sixI changed my trade to carrying bricksI changed my trade to carrying bricksTo work upon the railway
I was wearing corduroy breechesDigging ditches, pulling switchesDodging pitches, as I wasWorking on the Railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-sevenPoor Paddy was thinking of going to HeavenThe old bugger was thinking of going to HeavenTo work upon the railway, the railwayI'm sick to my death of the railwayPoor Paddy works on the railway
I was wearing corduroy breechesDigging ditches, pulling switchesDodging pitches, as I wasWorking on the Railway

(Paddy Works on the Railway)---------------------------------------
In eighteen hundred and forty-oneMy corduroy breeches I put onMy corduroy breeches I put onTo work upon the railway, the railwayI'm weary of the railwayPoor Paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-twoI didn't know what I should doI didn't know what I should doTo work upon the railway, the railwayI'm weary of the railwayPoor Paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-threeI sailed away across the seaI sailed away across the seaTo work upon the railway, the railwayI'm weary of the railwayPoor Paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-fourI landed on Columbia's shoreI landed on Columbia's shoreTo work upon the railway, the railwayI'm weary of the railwayPoor Paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-fiveWhen Daniel O'Connell he was aliveWhen Daniel O'Connell he was aliveTo work upon the railway, the railwayI'm weary of the railwayPoor Paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-sixI made my trade to carrying bricksI made my trade to carrying bricksTo work upon the railway, the railwayI'm weary of the railwayPoor Paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-sevenPoor Paddy was thinking of going to HeavenPoor Paddy was thinking of going to HeavenTo work upon the railway, the railwayI'm weary of the railwayPoor Paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-eightI learned to drink my whiskey straightI learned to drink my whiskey straightTo work upon the railway, the railwayI'm weary of the railwayPoor Paddy works on the railway

. . .

Dingle Regatta

[Нет текста]

. . .


(The Pogues' Version)------------------------------------------
In eighteen hundred and forty-sixAnd of March the eighteenth day,We hoisted our colors to the top of the mastAnd for Greenland sailed away, brave boys,And for Greenland sailed away.
The lookout in the crosstrees stoodWith spyglass in his hand;There's a whale, there's a whale,And a whalefish he criedAnd she blows at every span, brave boysShe blows at every span.
The captain stood on the quarter deck,The ice was in his eye;Overhaul, overhaul! Let your gibsheets fall,And you'll put your boats to sea, brave boysAnd you'll put your boats to sea.
Our harpoon struck and the line played out,With a single flourish of his tail,He capsized the boat and we lost five men,And we did not catch the whale, brave boys,And we did not catch the whale.
The losing of those five jolly men,It grieved the captain sore,But the losing of that fine whalefishNow it grieved him ten times more, brave boysNow it grieved him ten times more.
Oh Greenland is a barren landA land that bares no greenWhere there's ice and snow, and the whalefishes blowAnd the daylight's seldom seen, brave boysAnd the daylight's seldom seen.

(Greenland Fisheries)------------------------------------------------
'Twas in eighteen hundred and fifty-threeAnd of June the thirteenth day,That our gallant ship her anchor weighed,And for Greenland bore away, brave boys,And for Greenland bore away.
The lookout in the crosstrees stoodWith spyglass in his hand;There's a whale, there's a whale,there's whalefish he criedAnd she blows at every span, brave boysShe blows at every span.
The captain stood on the quarter deck,And a fine little man was he;Overhaul, overhaul! Let your davit tackles fall,And launch your boats for sea, brave boysAnd launch your boats for sea.
Now the boats were launched and the men aboard,And the whale was full in view.Resolved was each seaman boldTo steer where the whalefish blew, brave boysTo steer where the whalefish blew.
We stuck the whale the line paid out,But she gave a flourish with her tail,The boat capsized and four men were drowned,And we never caught that whale, brave boys,And we never caught that whale.
To lose the whale, our captain said,It grieves my heart full sore,But oh! to lose (those) four gallant menIt grieves me ten times more, brave boysIt grieves me ten times more.
The winter star doth now appear,So, boys we'll anchor weight;It's time to leave this cold countryAnd homeward bear away, brave boysAnd homeward bear away.
Oh Greenland is a dreadful placeA land that's never greenWhere there's ice and snow, and the whalefishes blowand the daylight's seldom seen brave boysBut the daylight's seldom seen.

. . .


Hello boys I've been away
On a bit of a holiday
To the land where the rivers freely flow
And the cattle roam on the wild callagh
Walking home three parts pissed
I stumbled and fell in the morning mist
I fell and rolled in the hungry grass
That tells the tale of a terrible past
I screamed and rolled and dreamt I fell
Down in the depths of a freezing hell
With a man coming up with the bugs inside
Bouncing tooth in a skull that died
We laughed to old times and the bad old days
Gonna wrap me up and takin' me away
Four million people starved to death
Could smell the curse on their dying breath
Where no one ever wants to go

Down in the ground where the dead men go...

To hell which is circular all around
Down in the belly of the big cold ground
The moving shadows were everywhere
The very trees seemed to bend and stare
I remembered the dunes on a Sligo shore
Screamed and ran till I could run no more
Over the fields and across the moor
I ran in the house and slammed the door
What the hell's that over there
A putrefying corpse sitting in that chair
Where no one ever wants to go

Down in the ground where the dead men go...

Been drunk as a skunk since I've been home
From bar to bar like a ghost I roamed
I can't forget those things I saw
Been down with the devil in the Dalling Road
One place I don't want to go

Down in the ground where the dead men go...

. . .


Oh Kitty, My Darling, remember
That the doom will be mine if I stay
'Tis far better to part, though it's hard to
Than to rot in their prison away
'Tis far better to part, though it's hard to
Than to rot in their prison away

So softly he kissed her pale lips
'Twas the same story over an o'er
Hush mo mhuirnín, the police are watching
And you know that I must go, a stor
Hush mo mhuirní n, the police are watching
And you know that I must go, a stor

In a day now I'll be over the mountain
There'll be time enough left for to cry
So good night and God guard you forever
And write to me won't you, goodbye
So good night and God guard you forever
And write to me won't you, goodbye

. . .


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