Greetings, bonjour, what’s happening?
This week’s Lager Time podcast is a little late, alas, been busy, mate.
Either way, like last week, there’s three poemon the episode and some bars at the end. The last track off the forthcoming More 64s of Boredom EP.
Hope yous all enjoy
Poems and lyrics below for those on the Substack - cree.substack.com for those who aren’t
My People
I like my people flawed
messy, confused but imbued with
principles they sometimes forget but
somehow, still guide them along that
wonky road
I like my people angry, anxious, unsure
with a sense of humour
and the sense that not everyone
thinks the same as them
I like my people to tolerate yours, even if we
think you’re all pricks, there’s
probably something we
agree on
I like my people a bit selfish but
accommodate their fellow traveller
where they can, knowing how the
world moves
I like my people to enjoy a moan but
still get things done
I like my people to make mistakes but
on occasion look in the mirror and
at least try and tidy the mess and
not repeat those mistakes again but
probably make those
mistakes
again
I like people to own up when
they mess-up, heed the
lesson and crack
on
I like my people to let their hair down
celebrate and have a laugh
I like my people to stand up when
it really matters, hold it
together when it’s falling down and
when they’re flat on their arse
get up and do it all again and
a little better than
before
I like my people like this
I like my people flawed
how do you like yours?
Tartan rug
My wife’s got this tartan
Rug - pure wool - acquired
On some some trip up
The highlands that I
Wish I’d done
It had been drying
Outside so I brought
It in - laid it on
The airer
Looked at it for a
Moment
Thought About
my family
My celtic roots and I
Wondered What my
Ancestors would
say to me
Were I To
commune With
Them
right
there
in the
Kitchen
The sound of
Distant Bagpipes
Dripping In
reverb
began To
play in
My Conscience
I closed my eyes
Asked for a
Response
Ancestors of old,
Can you hear
My call?
I said
Speak to me of
Caledonia
I heard a sound
Like a cough
Acccchh
Is someone there?
I said
I heard mumble
Alreet- alreet
Pardon me
I said
My ancestors,
If you are there
Is there some
truth you Wish to
impart On
me?
A throat was cleared
I sez geet to fock ya wee
Anglash gob-shite -
tryin ta geet a
bit of ’ kip roond
ere
I took it in
Nodded
Opened My eyes
and Walked away
With a feeling
Of pride and
Spiritual nourishment
The tune to
The Flower of
Scotland began
Playing in
My head
Knowing
I knew
None of
The words
Apart from
The name
Of the
Song, so
Sung that
Bit
Nylon to Experian
I lack gears
credit card in arrears
withdrawing cash to pay rent like a
feedback loop in my ears
spanked money on beers
sun holidays with peers
booze, burgers, no birds and
sunburnt to the point of tears
siblings set the standard and I couldn’t hit the marker
instead tagged walls in permanent marker
thinking I was some kind of martyr
que laughter
Got lapped on the school running track by top-set high-flyers
sort of kids that listened in class and didn’t use
Lynx cans to light fires, or swap jazz-mags in the
C-Block piss pots, or bunk off in Gofffs, or thief
sweets from the shop, well Rolley did but
we’ll let him off
Got mates that put graft in
did what they had to and now they’re laughing
got gaffs with flash BBQ’s in the garden,
grand design-types that don’t ignite, it’s all
magnets or something, no jargon
couple of ton, mate, bargain
still clearing my path
pulling up nettles and cutting grass
removing glass, trying to lay roots and
cultivate plants
could sit on my arse
sink lager and laugh
did plenty of that, mate but
that’s not the only half
away from that I took time to develop a craft
some didn’t get what I was doing
sat in my room perusing, same beat on repeat
going through paper like a shredder machine
reams and remans, lines and paragraphs
a lot of it rubbish but every now and again
I’d hit on something that shook my heart
electro-shock this car into a jump-start and
it felt good, like life could, a little lift
in between the routine of work,
eat, sleep that sees light
pollutes stars
cos when the days are dark
you’ve over-cooked the overdraft
frozen the credit card
just air in the fridge and
the only thing eating is the job
feeding on your charms and
when it pays the ends don’t meet so
the meters lacking charge and
finding that extra gear to leave
is a leap to a bridge to far
when that’s all you’ve got, thus far,
mate, it’s hard
Gobs*ite Lyrics
Let’s have it right, I’ve been around for time
Sitting on the naughty desk writing a thousand lines
That’s why you don’t know my face I was out of sight but
That’s about to change like a change of mind
I used to need peeps to make and mix beats
Used to need peeps to film and take pics
Never tried it, because I thought I’d be shit
I could write and rap bars and that was about it
But I’ve learned a couple of tricks and shoved ‘em up my sleeve
Might not be a wizard with it, but ce la vie
I’d rather have a crack, even if it’s crap
held back so much my lungs started to freeze
Leave a geezer swimming in a soup full of resentment
You’ll find him 40 years old swigging on a Super Tenants
Telling younger fellas back in the day he was a ‘sheller
Could’ve made it rain but lacked an umbrella
Not quite there but mate I’ve gone close
got a few grey hairs and a bunch of old flows
Miles on the clock, blisters on toes but a
Barrel load of ammo I’m ready to unload
Took my time I know, I’m so slow
Slow to move, like sloths on the roam but
It’s tortoise and the hair and yea my shell is solid
20 years of knowledge but loads I don’t know
Hey ho hold tight my day O’s
Talking DTP, Micky T, KND, the shed the red Uno
those 6 by 9s, working 9 to 5
By night refining flows
Back seat of the car we spat bars
Laughed hard burnt holes in clothes from soapbar
Made tapes, made mistakes sankk a bunch of jars
Ran events with beats, bass and no guitars
Left home got lost on my own
Roamed around like a lone dog looking for a bone
Changed jobs and addresses like socks on toes
And when I got some dough and went and washed my clothes
coins in the machine these 100 degree dreams
Went and shrunk so I pumped more pounds into these schemes
Scratch card fiends with flash-car dreams
But their cashcard means no credit for car keys
Read a few books learnt a few things
Like people aint always as nice as they seem
And peeps can be cool when they might look mean
Or they can be thick as shit, even with a degree
Used to think they were smarter than me
‘Cos they lacked an accent and pronounced all their t’s
Dress sense safe, rated PG
Never punched in the face or robbed when they were teens
But they seem entitled to skip ques
Like they never had to pay their dues
And they insist you listen to their views
And they want six months just to chill in Peru?!
time don’t care about your talent,
Or your gift, or your grift, or your self-esteem
Time says deliver the goods, or take time
To get good before you make those demands on me
So do one you plum, disappear lively
grab yourself a couple of books from the library
develop your craft, do it nightly and
practise hard, but do it quietly
Been on the mic, since the end of the nineties
This here runs deep in my psyche
A whole crate of notebooks if you try me
I’m just getting started like kids in primary
