Home Music Story Poems Gigs Biography


I heard the voice

I heard the voice of Jesus say
Come unto me and rest
Lay down o weary one lay down
Thy head upon my breast
I came to Jesus as I was
Weary and worn and sad
I found in him a resting place
And he has made me glad.

Beza's song

Where are the witnesses

Saw the light 
Turn and face away?
Day condemned
But beauty danced
For pennies dusk could pay,
A prison guard
Who’ll buy you time
On execution day,
Blind eye winked
Held by everything
Too quickly shied away.

Unkempt grass
Forget me nots
Keep vigil by my grave
Dear friends no I’m not dead yet
But the ghosts have named my name,
Billow, billow final breath
tell me am I saved?
Behind the corner a bully wait
Whom naked I must face…

Beza, Beza where you right
Cattle trucks lying out of sight,
Caprice shall name our name
In the bye and bye…
Was the gaze I sought no more than a staring eye

Lonely ticker tape
Frail shelter here
Paper boat of fate
When you could have saved
Why’d you cut me lose?
Why’d you walk way?

I aint a feared o you…
I am…

Where are the witnesses
Saw the light 
Turn and face

Summer House

Sun beat down

A beautiful day
Memorable for all the words we didn’t say
I recall hearkening the melody
Loves hand me downs
Hearts anxious generosity

In your summer house

Curtain call
Your mothers mind
Hide and seek of
Words she never seemed to find
Coloured pinafore
A kitchen pantomime
Beads she held
Rosaries to hide behind

In your summer house

Forget me not’s we planted
In the garden that she tended
Paper wishes blown at stars
Sat upon the oaks strong arms
The day your father came
And swore he’d never leave again
Locked door and the rotting timber
Broken window frames

Of your summer house

And the pillow that you brought her
No you never meant to harm her
And the pillow that you brought her
No you never meant to harm her

In your summer house

Own the worlds disgrace

Knew the gospel story
Of the red Clydeside;
Mother spat at Franco
Rosary from her carbine,
Father fell at Arnhem
Silk star’s deathly slide,
Solitary landing, 
No vigil for his graveside.
Is your life
Guarding Hess at Spandau,
To the gallowgate,
Piece work in the foundry,
Met Agnes on a double date;
Gale of rushing laughter
But chaste as her name sake,
Exile of the wedding
Her da by the chapel gate.
This is your life
Grey slate slipped the roof
Caught you randomly below,
Felled Mary like she were asleep
Lying on a bed of snow,
Gathering like winter berries
her bloodied halo;
Old friend lent you the fiver
To let her sleep
With her own below…
And this
This is your life
And this
This is your life
Bless you my child
It was no easy grace
To wrestle the Other
And look in his face
And without a name,
Own the worlds disgrace
For this is your life.

Age of the Ammonites

Was it undeniable
Shell she held again her head
Empty of sea the ocean spake
Like a voice recovered from the dead.
“Ever see a good one?”
The mortician said.
Weave a magic into a smile
With powder, rouge
Stall them for a while

In the age of the ammonites

O provocation
Never meant I had forsaken
Vow preacher held like bread
fore alter both bowed and fed
I can’t recall your names
Amnesia of whisky conscience
Never seemed to sound the same

In the age of the ammonites
Come show your bloodless lips
I have come to kiss

Staring out to the sea
Again the wind assault
A pyrrhic victory
Failed to find the way ahead
Where the good book might once have said
Faith is its own reward
Words, fear ransomed in his head,
Held like the sea won’t release her dead

In the Age of the ammonites
Show your bloodless lips
I have come to kiss

In the Age of the ammonites

You mortify, I’ll calcify
There is no reason to deny
You went down to gently now, oh yeah, yeah, yeah
Won’t take the milk I drew for you
Feather from the goose I cooked
To lay a pillow for your head, yeah, yeah, yeah
Is there a balm in Gilead –
to heal me whole

Innocent tonight

Evening breath
Lifts the lace by the window
Perfumed kiss
Of fresh, cut , grass
Adrift with the sound
Of a day’s running down
Silence descending

Cigarettes amber eye
Brands the night
A clocks mute sign
Arbiter of time

And I lie and smoke and sweat and decorate
A plain room’s darkness
With reasons why
You might just be late
And no ones hands are innocent

Loved the bleeders

Jesus never went to war
But I heard he loved the soldier
Heard he hung out in this bar
Made the whores laugh
Who worked here

Jesus never were polite
To the good old boy
Always getting it right
Put a brick through the window of the shopping mall
Said the credit in my pocket on fire from hell

Jesus never wore a tie
Drove a 4x4
Put money by
Threw his body on a train to the by and by
Dirty rag in his mouth
And his hands were tied

Letter from the caucuses

Thank you for the cigarettes
Chocolate bars
Both been eat
The boys back here
Send you their best
Now tell me how you are.

I enclose a photograph
And God Hans how
You would have laughed
We made them dig
Their own damn beds
Then sent them down to sleep.

That’s me there by the left
And tell mama she mustn’t fret
St Christopher’s
Around my neck
And I keep her picture near

Your loving brother


a feckless boy are a band that work and play in central scotland