The 5000 Spirits or the Layers of the Onion

Chinese White
by Mike Heron

The bent twig of darkness
Grows the petals of the morning;
It shows to them the birds singing
just behind the dawning.
Come dip into the cloud cream lapping;
I can't keep my hand on the plough
Because it's dying.

But I will lay me down with my arms
round a rainbow,
And I will lay me down to dream.
Oh, will your magic Christmas tree be shining
Gently all around?

Climbing up these figures
The sun is tugging at my shoulder.
And, every step I take,
I think my feet are getting older.
I see the crystal dreams unfolding,
I can't keep my eyes on the book because it's mouldring.

But I will lay me down with my arms
round a rainbow,
And I will lay me down to dream.
Oh, will your magic Christmas tree be shining
Gently all around?


No Sleep Blues
by Robin Williamson

Cracks rack the windows,
Howls hold the floor;
Rains rot the rafters,
And do you just have to snore?
It's a most inclement climate,
for the season of the night,
Is that mouse playing football, oh
I thought they didn't like the light?

And the dawn comes sneaking up
When it thinks I'm not looking;
I am starting to grieve, man,
I used to know but now I believe, man.
They tell me sleep is a gas,
and if I want to lay down,
But I'm sorry I woke you,
I mean I've got the no sleep blues.

There's mayhem in this mansion,
Since the cows were coming home,
With delirium no sleepum,
In a cloud of nylon foam.
But release scours the outhouse,
And a hard rain sears the sky,
But if you let the pigs decide it,
They will put you in the sty.

And the dawn comes sneaking up
When it thinks I'm not looking;
I am starting to grieve, man,
I used to know but now I believe, man.
They tell me sleep is a gas,
and if I want to lay down,
But I'm sorry I woke you,
I mean I've got the no sleep blues.

I think I'll get a picture,
And I think I'll put it on a nail.
I think I'll get another one,
And put it in a pail.
But the pail got so rusty
I called it red, red, red for fun,
And I laughed like a leaver
till you ought to seen it run.

And the dawn comes sneaking up
When it thinks I'm not looking;
I am starting to grieve, man,
I used to know but now I believe, man.
They tell me sleep is a gas,
and if I want to lay down,
But I'm sorry I woke you.
I mean I've got the no sleep blues.

The size of the future declared itself no part,
Aloof like a Sultan in the autumn of your heart,
But the heart got so hearty,
that it pulled for the shore,
And the sailors fired a big salute,
and it made my ears quite sore.

And the dawn was sneaking up
When it thinks I'm not looking;
I am starting to grieve, man,
I used to know but now I believe, man
They tell me sleep is a gas,
and I want to lay down,
But I'm sorry I woke you,
I mean I've got the no sleep blues.

I mixed stones and water
just to see what it would do.
And the water it got stoney,
and the stones got watery too.
So I mixed my feet with water
just to see what could be seen,
And the water it got dirty,
and the feet they got quite clean.

And the dawn comes sneaking up
When it thinks I'm not looking;
I am starting to grieve, man,
I used to know but now I believe, man.
They tell me sleep is a gas,
and if I want to lay down,
But I'm sorry I woke you,
I mean I've got the no sleep blues,


Painting Box
by Mike heron

When the morning of your eyes comes waking through my shadows
Leaving just a trace of twilight sleep,
I whisper to the baby raindrops playing on my window,
And tell them gently this is not the time that they should weep.

For somewhere in my mind there is a painting box,
I have every color there it's true.
Just lately when I look inside my painting box,
I seem to pick the colors of you.

My Friday evening's foot-steps plodding dully through this black town,
Are far away now from the world that I'm in.
My eyes are listening to some sounds that I think just might be springtime,
With daffodils between my toes I'm laughing at their whim,

And somewhere in my mind there is a painting box,
I have every color there it's true,
Just lately when I look inside my painting box,
I seem to pick the colors of you.

Oh somewhere in my mind there is a painting box,
I have every color there it's true.
Just lately when I look inside my painting box,
I seem to pick the colors of you.

The purple sail above me catches all the strength of summer.
Fishes stop and ask me where I am bound.
I smile and shake my head and say my little ship is sinking,
But I kind of like the sea that I'm on, and I don't mind if I do drown.

For somewhere in my mind there is a painting box,
I have every color there it's true.
Just lately when I look inside my painting box,
I seem to pick the colors of you.


The Mad Hatter's Song
by Robin Williamson

Oh seekers of spring how could you not find contentment
In a time of riddling reasons in this land of the blind
By the joke of fate alone
it's sure that as the loved hand leaves you,
You clutch for the slip-stream, the realness to find.

But do what you like, do what you like, do what you like,
do what you like, do what you like, do what you can,
do what you can, live till you die
My poor little man.
For Jesus will stretch out his hand no more.

But in the south there's many a waving tree;
Oh would that musky fingers move your pain;
In the warm south winds the lost flowers bloom again.

And if you cried, you know you'd fill a lake with tears,
Still wouldn't turn back the years,
Since the city has took you,
Mad Hatter is on my mind.

So sad, sad to see the way it grew
Those other people that I knew
That have either fell or faltered.
Mad Hatter is on my mind.

And you must have to see clear some time.

Prometheus the problem child,
still juggling with his brains
Gives his limping leopard's visions
to the miser in his veins.
Within the ruined factory is the normal soul insane
As he sets the sky beneath his heel
And learns away the pain.

But I am the archer the lover of laughter,
And mine is the arrowed flight.

I am the archer, and my eyes yearn after the unsullied sight.
Born of the dark waters of the daughters of night,
Dancing without movement after the clear light.
Oh Perithian fate be kind in the rumbling and trundling rickshaw of time.
Hooked by the heart to the king fisher's line,
I will set my one eye for the shores of the blind.


Little Cloud
by Mike Heron

How sweet to be a cloud, floating in the blue.

Lying awake, late the other night
Heard above me a trembling,
I looked up, it was a little cloud,
From which a gold string was dangling;
You know, I gave the string a little pull,
Just to see what was on the other end.
Just then a voice came down to me, says,
"Hey, now, don't you want to be my friend,

And float with me to distant lands,
wondrous and fair;
Float with me to distant lands wondrous and fair?
You see I'm just a happy little cloud,
I laugh and float and sing my song,
But the other clouds don't like me none.
They say I am behaving very wrong.
You see a cloud's supposed to be sad,
To cry and weep and tear its hair and all,
And don't matter how hard I try,
I can't get the first little tear to fall."

And float with me to distant lands, wondrous and fair;
Float with me to distant lands, wondrous and fair;

I said, "Hey, I like you little cloud,
You are a nice little fellow, yes."
"You making some, kind of a joke?", said the cloud,
"Now can't you see I'm wearing such a pretty dress?
You see I am the prettiest little chick cloud
That you'd find anywhere up above.
I just dropped in on you awhile
To see if you could give me some kind of love."

And float with me to distant lands, wondrous and fair;
Float with me to distant lands wondrous and fair;

Just then the chief cloud come into view
And says, "Hey, girl, now what you think you're doing there?
I told you so many times before
You just don't seem at all to care.
You know you should be floating up above, now
Don't let me catch you down here again."

And as my cloud pulled out of view,
There come failing down a gentle shower of rain.
Happy rain come failing down,
Red, green, blue and golden.
And every drop, as it fell, it smiled
And, throwing back its head, began singing,

"Oh float with me to distant lands, wondrous and fair;
Float with me to distant lands, wondrous and fair."


Eyes of Fate
by Robin Williamson

Oh, who can see in the eyes of fate?
All life alone in its chronic patterns.
Oh, swan, let me fly you
To the land of no winds blowing.
I know nothing, and know that I know nothing;
All is in the eye, and in its blinks of seeing.

So just like the morning
The ghost of the following day.
Listen: Ory, cry, cry.....
Rear the rollers wild and stormy
Echoes wholly only lonely long beforey, ory ory.

All rivalry and opinion still cast their wild spells.
Effort and contrariness change the directions of time.
The lion still growls in your hollowness.
Please let's be easy, please let's be friends.
Watching and learning like small children.
Till out of the morning is growing the strength of the day.

Listen: Ory, cry, cry.....
Rear the rollers wild and stormy
Echoes wholly only lonely long beforey, ory, ory.

Servant of fame or fame for a servant,
You see what you see, you see seldom what is.
Servant of fate or fate for a servant,
You see what you see, you see seldom what is.

Servant of fate, ohhhhhh.


Blues for the Muse
by Robin Williamson

I wake up in the early when I see my day walk in;
I wake up in the early when I start to begin.
I drink up my coffee to drive dreams away,
And I think about leaving but remain for the day.

Oh Glory but I just stay blind,
Think about my loving, yes, some of the time

I want to take it easy,
Ain't it hard like they say,
But I can play.

And most any morning, most any morning
I like to be born into my guitar day.

They say it's all butterflies,
Don't let your dreams get in your eyes,
But Orpheus made the sunrise,
'Cause he knew how to play.

She sings so fadey,
Called the sweet guitar lady.
She's a noted writer, I just can't seem to let her be.
And she is my flower, I call her my easy hour.
She's a low special, Baby that's enough for me.

And it's all right, you're in the graveyard now.
Well it's all right, you're in the graveyard now.

You may weep, you may moan,
You may pass your life so gay,
But lucky in life, I swear sometimes,
Surely going to have to meet your leaving day.

Well, she sings like the seashore,
Tonight I'm going to ride on your seesaw.
I will call up the Angels if they have a little word to say,
And I think I'll try cloudwalking.
It's just my face you see here talking,
And it's just the guitar singing,
And I have to let her have her way.


The Hedgehog's Song
by Mike Heron

I'm not the kind to complain
That I never had a girl to love.
Many a fine girl I tried hard to know,
But I think I never tried enough.

Sitting one day by myself,
And I'm thinking, "What could be wrong?"
When this funny little Hedgehog comes running up to me,
And it starts up to sing me this song.

Oh, you know all the words, and you sung all the notes,
But you never quite learned the song, she sang.
I can tell by the sadness in your eyes,
That you never quite learned the song.

Every day when the sun go down,
And the evening is so very still,
Many a fine girl I've held in my arms,
And I hope there's many more that I will,
But just when everything is going fine,
And absolutely nothing is wrong,
This funny little Hedgehog's always around
And every time he wants to sing me this song.

Oh, you know all the words, and you sung all the notes,
But you never quite learned the song, she sang.
I can tell by the sadness in your eyes,
That you never quite learned the song.

One day when the moon was full I thought I might settle down,
Found myself a pretty little girl,
And I stopped all my running around;
But just when the preacher come along,
And he's just gonna pop on the ring,
This funny little Hedgehog comes
running down the aisle,
And I don't have to tell you what he did sing.

Oh, you know all the words, and you sung all the notes,
But you never quite learned the song, she sang.
I can tell by the sadness in your eyes,
That you never quite learned the song.

I'm not the kind to complain
That I never had a girl to love;

Many fine girls I've tried hard to know,
But I think I never tried enough.
But now I'll be looking all my days,
And it isn't just me I got to please,
There's this funny little Hedgehog
Who's always around,
And the only words he ever sings to me are these.
Oh, you know all the words and you sung all the notes,
But you never quite learned the song, she sang.
I can tell by the sadness in your eyes,
That you never quite learned the song.


First Girl I Loved
by Robin Williamson

First girl I loved,
Time has come I will sing you
this sad goodbye song,
When I was seventeen, I used to know you.

Well, I haven't seen you, now, since many is the short year,
And the last time I seen you, you said you'd joined the
Church of Jesus.
But me, I remember your long red hair falling in our faces
As I kissed you.

Well, I want you to know, we just had to grow;
I want you to know, I just had to go.

And you're probably married now, house and car and all,
And you turned into a grownup, female, stranger.
And if I was lying near you now,
I probably wouldn't be here at all.

Well, we parted so hard;
Me, rushing round Britain with a guitar,
Making love to people
That I didn't even like to see.

Well, I would think of you.
Yes, I mean in the six sad morning.
And in the lonely midnight,
Try to hold your face before me.

Well, I want you to know, I just had to go;
I want you to know, we just had to grow.

And you're probably married now, kids and all,
And you turned into a grownup, female, stranger.
And if I was lying near you now,
I'd just have to fall.

Well, I never slept with you
Though we must have made love a thousand times.
For we were just young, didn't have no place to go,
But in the wide hills and beside many a long water
You have gathered flowers, and they do not smell for me.

Well, I want you to know, I just had to go.
I want you to know, we just had to grow.
So it's goodbye first love, and I hope you're fine.

Well, I have a sweet woman
Maybe some day to have babies by me,
she's pretty,
Is a true friend of mine


You Know What You Could Be
by Mike Heron

Read your book and lose yourself
In another's thoughts.
He might tell you 'bout what is
Or even 'bout what is not.

And if he's kind and gentle too,
And he loves the world a lot,
His twilight words may melt the slush
Of what you have been taught.

You know what you could be.
Tell me my friend,
Why you worry all the time
What you should been.

Listen to the song of life.
Its rainbow's end won't hold you.
Its crimson shapes and purple sounds,
Softly will enfold you.

It gurgles through the timeless glade,
In quartertones of lightning.
No policy is up for sale,
In case the truth be frightening.

You know what you could be.
Tell me my friend,

Why you worry all the time
What you should be.


My Name is Death
by Robin Williamson

I am the question that cannot be answered,
I am the lover that cannot be lost,
Yet small are the gifts of my servant the soldier,
For time is my offspring, pray, what is my name?

My name is Death, cannot you see?
All life must turn to me;
Oh cannot you see?
And you must come with me,

You must come with me.
I'll give you gold and jewels rare,
And all my wealth in store.
All pleasures fair,
if I may live but a few short years more.
Oh lady, lay your jewels aside,
No more to glory in your pride.
Tarrying here there is no way,
Your time has come that you must away,
And you must come to clay.


Gently Tender
by Mike Heron

Gently tender falls the rain,
washing clean the slate again;
But leave me please, behind my brain,
this light doesn't shadow on her
Shadows dancing through
the pink milk blankets,
where my mind
Lay dreaming gently of my loving you.
Sometimes I think I was true, but then I loved the
stone beneath my feet as much, usually.

Gently tender snow-drop grows,
see the past tense quietly go.
Kill the chord but let me know this light
doesn't shadow on her.
Shadows crawling through the green bush trees
where my toes crept
Breathing lightly of my loving you.
Sometimes I think I was true, but then I loved the
stone beneath my feet as much, usually.

Slowly spitting crawls the snake,
see the branches bend and break.
Venom that might easily shake
this light doesn't shadow on her.

Good, good loving, she gave me good loving, good,
good, loving, she gave me good loving,
Good, good loving, she gave me good.
And now all my wine is water,
to her all my wine is water,
All water, and my pearls are clear.
And now all my wine is water,
to her all my wine is water.
All water, and my pearls are clear.

She gave to me good loving,
she gave to me good loving,
Oohhhhhhh good loving.


Way Back in the 1960s
by Robin Williamson

I was a young man back in the 1960s.
Yes, you made your own amusements then,
For going to the pictures;
Well, the travel was hard, and I mean
We still used the wheel.
But you could sit down at your table
And eat a real food meal.

But hey, you young people, well I just do not know,
And I can't even understand you
When you try to talk slow.

There was one fellow singing in those days,
And he was quite good, and I mean to say that
His name was Bob Dylan, and I used to do gigs too
Before I made my first million.
That was way, way back before,
before wild World War Three,
When England went missing,
And we moved to Paraguayee.

But hey, you young people, I just do not know,
And I can't even understand you
When you try to talk slow.

Well, I got a secret, and don't give us away.
I got some real food tins for my 91st birthday,
And your grandmother bought them
Way down in the new antique food store,
And for beans and for bacon, I will open up my door.

But hey, you young people, well I just do not know,
And I can't even understand you
When you try to talk slow.

Well, I was a young man back in the 1960s.



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