Bad Times

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone

Silence the pianos and with a muffled drum

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead

Scribbling on the sky the message: He Is Dead

Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves

Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves

He was my North, my South, my East and West

My workingweek and my Sunday rest

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song

I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong

The stars are not wanted now, put out every one;

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood

For nothing now can ever come to any good

Ater The Funeral. W.H. Auden

We used to say

That come the day

We'd all be making songs

Or finding better words

These ideas never lasted long

The way is up

Along the road

The air is growing thin

Too many friends who tried

Were blown off this mountain with the wind

Meet on the ledge

We're gonna meet on the ledge

When my time is up I'm gonna see all my friends

Meet on the ledge

We're gonna meet on the ledge

If you really mean it, it all comes round again

Yet now I see

I'm all alone

But that's the only way to be

You'll have your chance again

Then you can do the work for me

Meet on the ledge

We're gonna meet on the ledge

When my time is up I'm gonna see all my friends

Meet on the ledge

We're gonna meet on the ledge

If you really mean it, it all comes round again

Meet on the ledge

We're gonna meet on the ledge

When my time is up I'm gonna see all my friends

Meet on the ledge

We're gonna meet on the ledge

If you really mean it, it all comes round again

Meet On The Ledge - Fairport Convention