1. |
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I watch you from my side of the bar, in the hazy amber light,
Your eyes are never too far away . . . not as far as they are tonight.
Something tells me that you’ve been wronged, or has someone been unkind?
I’m always here darlin’, would it be so bad . . . just to share what’s on our mind?
CHORUS:
So I’ll sit and drink, and smile, and think: I don’t even know your name…
But I’ll order another, watch your soft eyes flutter,
And wish you would feel the same.
/
Now the pool balls crack, and the glasses clink, the old jukebox it grinds and skips,
I’m right here darlin’ now don’t look sad, let me brush your fingertips. ...
CHORUS:
So I’ll sit and drink, and smile, and think: I don’t even know your name… as you pour me another, my voice breaks and I stutter,
And how I wish you’d feel the same;
Yeah I wish you’d feel the same.//
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2. |
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That fiddling lass has come along in leaps and bounds,
I used to avoid her like the plague: her noisy, screechy sounds!
But the occasional little show is nice to pass the time…
Now I bet you’ve see me picking up butts up off-of the ground,
Well that’s coz I don’t like begging – enough of that around,
But this town’s so deep in dough, it’s hardly a crime.
All I own is in my hands: a bottle of Coke and scraps from garbage cans,
These Footscray streets they are my home; night and day it’s here I roam...
Well no-one every asks how my life turned wrong,
I’m just bushy white hair and dirty coat – grey and long,
but today the girl with the fiddle played my song…
Yeah today the girl with the fiddle played my song.
I watched from the footpath bench just across the road
With eyes bright and wide, my moon face it glowed,
in a way like nobody here would ever have seen.
That sweet fiddle tune it soared and wove
a warmth in my heart, as the cold wind blowed,
And if I had a few quid, I’d even toss her a queen.
All I own is in my hands: a bottle of Coke and scraps from garbage cans,
These Footscray streets they are my home; night and day it’s here I roam...
Well no-one every asks how my life turned wrong,
I’m just bushy white hair and dirty coat – grey and long,
but today the girl with the fiddle played my song…
Yeah today the girl with the fiddle played my song. ...//
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3. |
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They took me from my home-glen, to number their frontline,
They took me from those Waters, and the crystal eyes that shine…
But thruugh their misdemeanour, they accused me of a crime:
and on some strange adventure—on the seas I did serve my time;
And I always did then wonder: if a true love you did find?
And I always did remember: your eyes, they did haunt my mind…
While I was over yonder, my heart was locked in a bind,
Well I’m due home, this September—but suspect it won’t be kind…
So I aint comin back for water,
I aint comin back for wine,
--I aint comin back to take you back. . . .
For you were always mine.
Well the damn swallowed up the valley, It numbed their Hearts & Minds,
And through those pristine Waters, big-business wheels now grind;
So who wracked you there with pain Love?–who left you out on the vine?
While I turned my eyes to the oceans, and the peaceful stars that shine…
Now I aint comin back for water,
I aint comin back for wine,
--I aint comin back to take you back. . . .
For you, for you were always mine.
Now rest your weary head dear—for whomever you may pine,
Know this: I’ll never leave you, just look to the stars for a sign….
Cos’ I aint comin back for water,
I aint comin back for wine,
--I aint comin back to take you back,. . . .
For you were always mine..
So come with me my darlin’
Come with me so fine,
Oh come with me, oh come with me
We're running out of Time…
And I aint comin back for water,
I aint comin back for wine,
--I aint comin back to take you back,. . . .
For you;
for you were always mine...//
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4. |
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Everyone I know it seems is going mad,
They just don’t know where this world is heading to,
And you were such a beauty – yes you got me bad,
Such a pity you’re too young to have a clue.
Now I’m raking over the ashes of the little that we’ve done,
We’ve hardly said a word yet something wicked this way comes,
Each forsaken heart still will follow its own laws,
Somehow you’ve put a spell on me but, I’m not yours…
(Somehow you’ve put a spell on me but, I’m not the one for you…; I’m not yours.)
-
It’s so hard these days to find a sweetheart,
When everybody wants somebody new,
And the warmer that things get the more we drift apart,
Nothing I say can change your point of view.
So I’m raking over the ashes of the little that we’ve done,
We’ve hardly said a word yet something wicked this way comes,
Each forsaken heart still will follow its own laws,
Somehow you’ve put a spell on me but, I’m not yours…
(Somehow you’ve put a spell on me but, I’m not the one for you…; I’m not yours.)...
/
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5. |
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Well you can’t find work --now you’ve found your calling,
And the one you think you love thinks that you’re appalling.
So many dreams I just can’t seem to catch,
I guess I’m going through another “rough patch”.
You are bound by your whims, I am bound by whimsy,
If this is all in the genes, then this joke’s growing flimsy,
Can we ever really change what’s already been hatched?
Maybe the whole lot is one long rough patch...
When you start to wonder what sort of life you’ve been leading,
Then you know that it’s the wrong wolf you’ve been feeding...
I suspect I’m not alone in being like that:
I guess we’re going through another rough patch... ...//
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6. |
Spanish Arch
02:55
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I came into Galway on a Saturday night,
sick and tired from that long haul flight
But filled with nostalgia I soon hit the bars,
and felt the ghosts of old lovers down at the Arch.
Well was it in the King’s Head or deep in the Quays –
where the Jameson left you easy to please --
or was it on Shop Street just shooting the breeze
or even in the back of old Tig Coili ?
-- where you found me… in a night of revelry; but away, I must soon be .…
(CHORUS)
Kiss me under the Spanish Arch
By the rising sun I’ll be on the march
Your eyes are dark and the wind is harsh
So kiss me under the Spanish Arch (Yeah kiss me under the Spanish Arch);
Your hand by the river was warm in the cold,
And on the Wolf Tone Bridge our stories were told,
We drank in The Salt House and the Róisín Dubh
Then danced till the dawn stole the stars from above
-- but soon, I must say goodbye: for I’m back to Dublin, and then to Dubai ….
(CHORUS)...
//
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7. |
Blanket of Clouds
02:19
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Your heart is like a blanket of clouds, in our plane we are gliding through;
Your heart is like a blanket of clouds, safe and sound from a certain view;
Your heart is like a blanket of clouds, any moment I could fall right through;
any moment it could give way, into the blue.
With a fuel gauge that is broken, and a storm on the horizon, I’ll brace myself for landing – and so will you...
Well our ETA’s uncertain – as is our destination, but we both know that is nothing new....
Your heart is like a blanket of clouds, in our plane we are gliding through;
any moment it could give way, into the blue;
any moment it could give way, into the blue.
//
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8. |
World of Shame
04:43
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Up the lane and back to your house
Will I leave a foot in my mouth,
-- will I find my way back home at all?...
I don’t know what I was thinking
I do recall we had been drinking,
The path is rough -- we might slip and fall….
Well we can share our History with these old bluestones,
Just as many more have done before….
And it’s one of life’s mysteries how I’d forget your name,
My head so sore, I wake-up wanting more…;
I’m growing weary of this Game /
But it's a world of shame....
I’m growing weary of this Game /
And it’s a world of shame...
I’m growing weary of this Game /
We’re in a world of shame....
Always strange the people we meet
like these stones that anchor our feet,
We don’t believe that they’re precious at all…
We can’t know how long we will last,
if love should fade away all too fast,
I hope these lanes remain for one and all…..
We’ll just whisper our History to these old bluestones
Just as many more have done before...
And it’s one of life’s mysteries how I’d forget your name,
My head so sore, I wake-up wanting more…;
I’m growing weary of this Game /
And it’s a world of shame;
I’m growing weary of this Game /
We’re in a world of shame....
It’s a world of shame.....//
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9. |
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10. |
Fifteen Sons
05:29
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This is a tale of a regular football match in 1892,
But no-one could guess that fine Saturday, such a fateful event might ensue,
It was Mordialloc’s home-game; they played host to Mornington,
The visiting side had not far to go – Mornington was just across the Bay...
So instead of the train they would travel by boat – the weather alright for a sail,
Then after the game, no reason to think, the trip home could possibly fail,
And before you blame the demon-drink, this simple fact can’t be denied:
The fifteen men aboard that boat that night were all teetotallers, bar five…;
REFRAIN:
Well what exactly occurred, may never be known,
But one thing is certain for sure:
That it’s rarely the case you will forget a face,
of a son you’ve lost forever more…
(Such a short trip away, yet that boat went astray; it never met Mornington’s shore)
Rumour remains, that as the Mornington team set off for home in the dark,
“The Ship That Never Returned” was the tune, that a player’s cornet did impart;
And when the journey was more than half done ‘cross the water soft singing could be heard
—Well that’s if those Frankston fisher-men, can be taken at their word…
So the families stood ‘round the Mornington Pier, through the cold, that night they braved;
By 9.PM, still no boat had appeared, yet the wretched tears were still saved:
until a fishing trawler called The Wanderer, next morning, ‘round six or half-past,
came sailing towards them—mournfully—her flag it hung at half-mast…
(REFRAIN:) …………………………….
Only one body would ever be found – it was tangled in the upturned boat,
The winter sea had claimed the rest, as they struggled all night to stay afloat:
And by the scratch marks all over the hull: they had fought hard – true to form,
Trying in vain to set things right after sailing into a freak storm...
[etc].
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11. |
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based on a true story...
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12. |
Bats of Brunswick
03:10
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It's hard to ignore he was first out the door, But the CBD bar’s aren’t his friend anymore; every Friday that’s where all the workmates go, it’s just a fashion-parade, and he’s learnt to say no; Cos’ the patrons were just too cool for school, Sure the barmaid had a pretty face, But he’s wracked with despair, for he belongs in another place…. / CHORUS : And so he makes his way home… on down the lanes… head for the cranes – with the cats, and the bats, of Bruns...wick. I'm off for a pint tonight, at my local hotel: and if it's your thing, you can eat there as well; The crowd there is "hip", but the music is free, and when they give the last call, we hit the party down the street; Cos the venues have got too cool for school, it’s hard to find a friendly face, And the Bouncer’s they say: “have you forgotten you’re banned from this place”... …And so I make my way home… on down the lanes… head for the cranes – with the cats, and the bats; head for the cranes – with the cats, and the bats; head for the cranes – with the cats, and the bats, of Bruns...wick. (Rpt. CHORUS :) Make your way home…………………………//
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13. |
Let it All Fall Down
04:12
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[for R.E.G.B.]
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14. |
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see "Rough Patch" single release, 2017.
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Pat Bruce Melbourne, Australia
"2-Hat" Pat Bruce is one of Footscray's lesser-known Alternative/Roots troubadours.
His heartfelt song-craft conveys a raw
mix of Celtic-Folk, tinged with muddy country-roots, all drenched with a grungy punk spirit.
As an intermittent stalwart of the inner-Melbourne music scene over the past decade, some say he is finally maturing like a good wine.
Decide for yourself.
... more
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