Product Description
Performed by the composer with electronic accompaniment.
Poem by Louis MacNeice:
It's no go the merry-go-round,
it's no go the rickshaw,
All we want is a limousine
and a ticket for the peepshow.
Their knickers are made of crêpe-de-chine,
their shoes are made of python,
Their halls are lined with tiger rugs
and their walls with heads of bison.
John MacDonald found a corpse,
put it under the sofa,
Waited till it came to life
and hit it with a poker,
Sold its eyes for souvenirs,
sold its blood for whiskey**,
Kept its bones for dumb-bells
to use when he was fifty.
(** or whisky for Scotch drinkers!)
It's no go the Yogi-Man,
it's no go Blavatsky,
All we want is a bank balance
and a bit of skirt in a taxi.
Annie MacDougall went to milk,
caught her foot in the heather,
Woke to hear a dance record
playing of Old Vienna.
It's no go your maidenheads,
it's no go your culture,
All we want is a Dunlop tyre
and the devil mend the puncture.
The Laird o' Phelps spent Hogmanay
declaring he was sober,
Counted his feet to prove the fact
and found he had one foot over.
Mrs Carmichael had her fifth,
looked at the job with repulsion,
Said to the midwife 'Take it away;
I'm through with overproduction'.
It's no go the gossip column,
it's no go the Ceilidh,
All we want is a mother's help
and a sugar-stick for the baby.
Willie Murray cut his thumb,
couldn't count the damage,
Took the hide of an Ayrshire cow
and used it for a bandage.
His brother caught three hundred cran
when the seas were lavish,
Threw the bleeders back in the sea
and went upon the parish.
It's no go the Herring Board,
it's no go the Bible,
All we want is a packet of fags
when our hands are idle.
It's no go the picture palace,
it's no go the stadium,
It's no go the country cot*
with a pot of pink geraniums,
(*cot = cottage)
It's no go the Government grants,
it's no go the elections,
Sit on your arse for fifty years
and hang your hat on a pension.
It's no go my honey love,
it's no go my poppet;
Work your hands from day to day,
the winds will blow the profit.
The glass* is falling hour by hour,
the glass will fall for ever,
But if you break the bloody glass
you won't hold up the weather.
(*glass = barometer)
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