When heavy rain has caused mass run-off from bare farmland above
and the creek has become murky and muddy reddish browned
How do the fish, the turtles, eels and also tiny shrimp, maintain vision,
to fossick for their food in the locality where they are found
In the tropic monsoon wet season, it can often take some weeks
before the creek has subsided and the water finally clears
Environmental pollution, that results from mans pursuits,
it's exponential, been happening for years
Will it take mass extinction of most of humankind to return to sanity,
on this beautiful creation, known as planet Earth
Craziness prevails throughout the human race
common sense and love seems to be in a state of dearth
Those tender eels you rescue by the shore
bring you empty news from the deep;
they aptly sing your sunken score,
vivid sounds from the liver of your ship.
You rely on your Sunday best to warm
your sins, fins and skin, but the heart...
the heart is scattered like the swarm
of pebbles that tear your feet apart.
Far, you glance at the fading distance,
which, in turn, presents itself at hand,
making itself unavailable in existence.
A darkest seagull hovers by, so stealth,
and you face the everchanging sand,
and you learn to woo burials, death.
Let’s be eels,
Let slip into their hands,
Let’s be eels,
Let’s explore the rivers
Before they catch us,
They’re waiting for us downstream,
To hurt us,
We are eels,
We know better than they,
The taste of springs and tides,
We are eels,
We have answers
Which they don’t care,
Slide, slip, reach the sea.
Soyons des anguilles,
Glissons-leur entre les mains,
Soyons des anguilles,
Explorons les rivières
Avant qu’ils nous attrapent,
Ils nous attendent en aval,
Pour nous faire du mal,
Nous sommes es anguilles,
Nous connaissons mieux qu’eux,
Le gout des sources et des marées,
Nous sommes des anguilles,
Nous avons des réponses
Dont ils ne veulent pas,
Glissons, glissons, rejoignons la mer.
Jellied eels and pie n mash.
East London Fair, and that’s a fact.
The Dockers hands, and the pearly kings.
Their romance gone, the truth it stings.
The Bow Bells ring, they sound out loud.
Cockney chests, they puff out proud.
Not much left of old world London town.
Inside office blocks our city drowns.
The rhyming slang, used to confound.
It hid the truth, of lies abound.
The gifted few, they understood.
They kept those coppers under hood.
Up the Apples and pears, mind your plates of meat.
Meant up the stairs and watch your feet.
The law never knew, they couldn’t make it out.
We watched their faces and saw their doubt.
The slang we used was not just for fun.
It kept us on our toes, not on the run.
Old London's gone it has changed its face.
For better or worse it's now a different place.
We've had the rough. We've had the smooth.
This place has changed, with times it's moved.
Like or not this is London Town.
The times have changed, but she'll not let you down.
She'll take you in, she'll hold you tight.
Embrace her heart, enjoy the light.
Female eels with sex appeal
~ certainly do make a tasty meal
I'll try to tell you without my usual cant
that all I wanted was to go sailing with
Sherry Saturday morning but I can't!
My hovercraft is full of eels!
The watchman phoned when I was lying
in bed to notify me of this.
I was shocked to find he wasn't lying!
My hovercraft is full of eels!
My good-will has been weakened
because of this horrid event
which completely ruined my weekend.
My hovercraft is full of eels!
These morbid creatures are serious
party-poopers. Remember!: Their
electricity is deleterious.
My hovercraft is full of eels!
My beloved Birthday present invaded by
these heinous monsters! I will have to buy
a new one 'cause to this one I must say bye!
My hovercraft is full of eels!
Ghastly! You don't know how this feels!
My hovercraft is full of eels!
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