Thursday, 1 March 2012

The Lilies of the Valley

How time flies. This ballad was written in response to the recession of the late 1970s. We've had two more since then.

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“O where are you going, my dear young son,
   On a dark and stormy night?”
“I go to the house below the hill
   Where the people dance by laser light.”
                                    The lilies of the valley,
                                    The stony valley.

Demand and Consumption whirled on the floor
   Spilling the wine from a glass;
Avid and Puerile staggered outside,
   Bloody-Minded refused to let them pass.
                                    The lilies of the valley,
                                    The stony valley.

O he’s struggled across the high plateau
   And the wind has battered his temples;
He’s sung a slight song to the black of the night
   And comforted his greyhound simple.
                                    The lilies of the valley,
                                    The stony valley.

Priggish and Posture sat on the stairs,
   Contempt looked up at the wall;
The music grew louder, the feeding more frenzied,
   Self-Love caste a smile at them all.
                                    The lilies of the valley,
                                    The stony valley.

O he’s followed the winding, sinking path
   Through the oak and the beech in the dingle;
His greyhound has yelped at the fluttering light
   Of the house like a flare on the shingle.
                                    The lilies of the valley,
                                    The stony valley.

Demarcation and Rules in a corner
   Watched Conscience think on the starving;
A hundred mouths were packed with food,
   Were open and shrilly laughing.
                                    The lilies of the valley,
                                    The stony valley.

O his greyhound has stopped and whines so high,
   She has rushed back into the night;
O he struggles to find her in the furious dark
   With the house like a glorious heaven in sight.
                                    The lilies of the valley,
                                    The stony valley.

“What is that noise like an underground train?
   O what is that noise like a fury?
The lake in the hills is strongly dammed
   And slumbers like a god in a story.”
                                    The lilies of the valley,
                                    The stony valley.

The Titanic was sunk by an iceberg,
   The Golden Gate flung from the air;
The house threw up its hands and extinguished its lights
   And after the landslide was not there.
                                    The lilies of the valley,
                                    The stony valley.

O he’s run away back to his mother,
   His greyhound close at his heels:
“O mother, the bright lights and good times are done,
   The dust in the air is like unpaid bills.”
                                    The lilies of the valley,
                                    The stony valley.

The liquid mud has long settled,
   Two figures pick over the wreck;
Recrimination grabs Self-Blame by the shoulders
   And deliberately breaks his neck.
                                    The lilies of the valley,
                                    The stony valley.

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© November 1979