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Post by Equus on Apr 17, 2014 20:52:47 GMT
Enter the Uninvited: Space Place Face Halt Block Stop Sorry we're coming in... We Roman legions wend their way through ever-widening roads of Empire Long straight tracks to new horizons, gilded in soft-tinted campfire. Old Corinium Dobunnorum, Durovernum Cantiacorum Angles, Saxons, Danes and Normans, on the whole, a curve of learning Alfie, great in spirit, battle, on Sumerset Levels left cak,es a-burning. Willy Conker, work cut out, in Domesday pages, marks our number. Sheep and pigs amongst the hundreds, fat tithes and taxes to encumber. Pizza palace, burger kingdom, cocaine cola, nylon stockings, Playboy, Newsweek, Time and Life, GI Joe, spam fritter shocking Cold War sparring, Langley spooking, Grosvenor Square (the London Station). Elvis hips and Monroe lips, John Birch against United Nations. Bubblegum and Google-bum, Facebook-frenzied social network Apple Mac and iPhone App, Gibson, Fender sonic fretwork Star Trek, Baywatch, Friends, Sopranos, West Wing, Madmen, Walking Dead Officer Rick will turn the trick and banish zombies from our heads. Sorry England... They had a macho testosterone problem...!! but having said that... this is the first time that Ian mentions the Danes in a song... We are deeply honored, but a sincere apology seems to be in place...
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Post by JTull 007 on Apr 18, 2014 2:50:54 GMT
With Ian's voice, I enjoy even the rap style which others may not. The spoken word has rhythm.
This song is challenging to some unfamiliar with history or even social evolution.
You learn many things through music and this song reflects the way change and progress seem uninvited. With cultures that clash over time, we all end up learning new things whether we like it or not.
That's part of the appeal to this album, you may learn something new by understanding these songs.
I will hopefully have all the songs tomorrow just in time for "Homo Erraticus Weekend". There's a wild child coming!
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Post by Equus on Apr 18, 2014 14:50:52 GMT
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/DoggerlandDoggerland:
Our footsteps o'er the Doggerland, Chased retreating ice and snow, left us breathing high and dry, Land's End to Scapa flow, The seeds of Albion , wind-blown free, scattered to the moors, dormant beneath the soggy heath where stouter oaks will grow. All across the Doggerland All across before the tides. Across with boar and elk and wolves. Take the highlands near and wide. Strike with rock and flint and bone, follow trail and hoof. Onwards to another place, a place to raise a roof. And these four walls to shelter us upon this blessed plot: This earth, this realm, this England - island, alone, aloof. All across the Doggerland All across before the tides. Across with boar and elk and wolves. Take the highlands near and wide. Back across the Doggerland, Costa villa overkill. Warm farmhouses in Tuscany challenge Winter's will. We pensionable, geriatric, sun-creased wrinklies long for this earth, this realm, this England, a burial ground to fill. All across the Doggerland All across before the tides. Across with luggage, kids and sunscreen. Melted mortgage, dreams that died. All across the Doggerland All across before the tides. Across with boar and elk and wolves. Take the highlands near and wide.
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Post by Equus on Apr 19, 2014 18:15:02 GMT
Heavy Metals:I am the smith. I feed my melt-pot, fashion carbon steely blades while coulter and the mouldboard stab and break the clod in forest glades. In sultry peace and blood-raised anger, I hammer out my forging trade. Lockheed, Fokker, Curtis, Hawker, Avro, Gloster, Handley Page, Colt, Beretta, Walther, Mauser, Springfield, Ruger in a rage. Holland, Holland, Boss and Purdey, Woodward, Greener: golden age. Every atom ofthe arsenal forged in distant dying sun in unholy Trinity now lends new form to plough and gun. Harry S. and Oppenheimer, Fermi, Teller, what have you done? And did they pray that He may guide us in His ways, now battle's won?
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Post by Equus on Apr 19, 2014 18:17:24 GMT
Puer Ferox Adventus: The brash North wind strikes upon the isle of Lindisfarne. I offer searching souls the wisdom of my years. These lessons writ in book of ages holy, past. The agony, the righteous path to steer between the waves, the dark abyss, tied to the mast. This sponge of pragmatic Constantine mops them all up and wipes them clean. It's all okay, it's all official. The Christ child advent here to be seen. Saturn's Solstice, Yuletide blotted, blended in cynic innocence. Meet in Milan and host the party, safer to sit astride the fence. What is this book? These airy pages? Scribed and scribbled with latitude. Tallest tales for poor and needy in wide- eyed wonder at faith renewed. Words of gospel and redemption, absolution if we repent Emperor's deathbed, late salvation, baptism in dubious testament. There's a wild child coming. There's an angry man. There's a new age dawning here, to an old age plan. Manic mother, her child gone missing: found in the temple with the elder men. Gone about His Father's business. Yeah - but he soon goes missing once again. Ducked his head with the mad-John prophet. West bank desert doubts and fear. White magic, healing, and exorcism: got twelve good men - now the gang's all here. There's a wild child coming. There's an angry man. There's a new age dawning here, to an old age plan. Proclamation, divine seed sown. (Did he really say that thing?) On donkey colt, calm, to the Passion, knowing full well what the charge must bring. The body bread, a farewell supper, bounty silver, a kiss betrayed lt's a long, hard haul, that Via Dolorosa. No last contrition, quite unafraid. There's a wild child coming. There's an angry man. There's a new age dawning here, to an old age plan.
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Post by Equus on Apr 19, 2014 18:22:55 GMT
Meliora Sequamur: (Let Us Follow Better Things.)
Mortarboard, gown, hood and lace come guide me in learning, in ascension where minds may meet and twitters tweet in modern Latin, in declension. O Domine, O Magister - we aspiring angels sing with one tongue, forever young, let us follow better things.
In saintly word and perfect grammar, to Academia's lofty space. The trivium, quadrivium, all baser thoughts now to efface. O Domine, O Magister - we aspiring angels sing with one tongue, forever young, let us follow better things.
Cruel Bunter-bashing, cane-a-thrashing, lines, detention, soon forgot. O dark ploy! This grammar school boy has paid the price and bought the lot. In the quiet hours of life's twilight, old school ties and photographs, I call to mind the sore behind, the tears, the last and longest laughs.
Empty desks and inkwells, darkened chapels, cobweb corridors silent now. Ghostly purple robes and dusty trencher, what could be holier than thou? O Domine, O Magister - we aspiring angels sing with one tongue, forever young, let us follow better things. Meliora sequamur: may we follow better things.
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Post by Equus on Apr 19, 2014 18:26:35 GMT
The Turnpike Inn:
Go no farther: access denied down byways, freeways of the past. The superhighway tollhouse humbly begs your pause, so just hold fast. A word in ear, free marketeer suggests you ponders, and takes your choice. For right of passage, freight or message, change your horses, raise your voice in protest at the pretty penny taken for your mortal sins. But dally now in sweet surrender, drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn.
Beware the brigand, pistols drawn, who offers life for modest fee and ends his days like poor John Austin, last man on the Tyburn Tree. The palest ale, the stoutest porter fortify the heart, the breast. Weary head on eider pillow, horse blanket over, down to rest. Though we too steal from honest wage, come lie with us, good kith and kin and dally now in sweet surrender, drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn.
Drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn. Drown your sorrows at the Turnpike Inn. Drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn. Though we too steal from honest wage, come lie with us, good kith and kin and dally now in sweet surrender, drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn. Drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn. Drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn.
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Post by Equus on Apr 19, 2014 18:28:48 GMT
The Engineer:
All along the new straight track we plough the old fields under. Seven good feet and a quarter inch, broad rails to steal the thunder. 100 picks in '36 sent navvies to meet their maker as black Box Tunnel worms its way past the Company undertaker.
Hard, cast in iron, that engineer: God bless Isambard! Piston-scraping, furnace-busting, (he) plays the winning card.
Rain, Steam, Speed at Maidenhead - Turner's vision wide. Over bridges, girders, hot-driven rivets safely guide passenger wagons from Paddington to Bristol's briny blue. On to break the waves, with a thousand horses, turn the churning screw.
Hard, cast in iron, that engineer: God bless Isambard! Piston-scraping, furnace-busting, (he) plays the winning card.
But those bonnie lads from way 'oop North, had to have the final laugh: the ripe new age was the standard gauge, four foot, eight and a half. And rolling out across all Europe, across the mad, bad Empire world came the age of steam and the engines roaring, bold brazen Jack unfurled. Arching palaces at Praed Street, stand lofty and serene; home to their maker and his last two miles to sleepy Kensal Green.
Hard, cast in iron, that engineer: God bless Isambard! Piston-scraping, furnace-busting, (he) plays the winning card.
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Post by Equus on Apr 19, 2014 18:30:44 GMT
The Pax Britannica:
I came to woo you at behest of Uncle Leo, did my best to charm and Hatter, sooth, lay thoughts of scheming Saxon Prince to rest. Just seventeen, you were emboldened, turned away plain Orange boy and made for me a consort haven in your heart, haven of joy.
Now Empire spills a growing blot across the atlas, leaves its mark. The hands of men in iron ships stoke their boilers, fan the spark. Generous in deed and promise, our emissaries make fair trade and pay with sovereign Queenly coin for goods and worldly fortunes made.
We will win them and contain them, not by Enneld Pattern gun: no hard coercion, whip or stick but ten good shillings to be won. See, we offer contracts clear in English, plain as it appears in small print, some trifling matters: not important, never fear.
Pax Britannica, Pax Britannica, rules the headland and the wave. Hansa spirit will enrich us, keep us from an early grave. Sweet Victoria, Mother England, gracious queen whom God will save.
We'll leave them gifts of architecture, engineering, laws and more. The willow bat, the bowler hat of gentlemen who keep the score. Head-up code of moral conduct, never minions to deceive. Straight the ball and, best ofall, when time is come, we take our leave.
Pax Britannica, Pax Britannica, rules the headland and the wave. Hansa spirit will enrich us, keep us from an early grave. My sweet Victoria, your dearest Albert; two ledger lines above the stave.
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Post by nonrabbit on Apr 20, 2014 6:43:46 GMT
Enter the Uninvited: Space Place Face Halt Block Stop Sorry we're coming in... We Roman legions wend their way through ever-widening roads of Empire Long straight tracks to new horizons, gilded in soft-tinted campfire. Old Corinium Dobunnorum, Durovernum Cantiacorum Angles, Saxons, Danes and Normans, on the whole, a curve of learning Alfie, great in spirit, battle, on Sumerset Levels left cak,es a-burning. Willy Conker, work cut out, in Domesday pages, marks our number. Sheep and pigs amongst the hundreds, fat tithes and taxes to encumber. Pizza palace, burger kingdom, cocaine cola, nylon stockings, Playboy, Newsweek, Time and Life, GI Joe, spam fritter shocking Cold War sparring, Langley spooking, Grosvenor Square (the London Station). Elvis hips and Monroe lips, John Birch against United Nations. Bubblegum and Google-bum, Facebook-frenzied social network Apple Mac and iPhone App, Gibson, Fender sonic fretwork Star Trek, Baywatch, Friends, Sopranos, West Wing, Madmen, Walking Dead Officer Rick will turn the trick and banish zombies from our heads. Sorry England... They had a macho testosterone problem...!! but having said that... this is the first time that Ian mentions the Danes in a song... We are deeply honored, but a sincere apology seems to be in place... Great thread Equus and one where most of us will be stopping for a cup of tea HE has a lot of historical mainly British led references and although most of you will be aware of them all it's maybe helpful if they are documented here as well. Corinium Dobunnorum - Cirencester coriniummuseum.org/Durovernum Cantiacorum - Canterbury www.favonius.com/romans/canterbury.htmLondinium - London www.visitlondon.com/tag/roman-history-londonAlfie - Alfred the Great (and he burnt the cakes) www.bbc.co.uk/history/historic_figures/alfred_the_great.shtmlWilly Conker - William the Conqueror www.bbc.co.uk/history/historic_figures/william_i_king.shtmltithe- one tenth of something, paid as a contribution to a religious organization or compulsory tax to government. "Sheep and pigs amongst the hundreds, of tithes and taxes to encumber.." - referring to the peasants who were forced to pay to the landowners or land grabber in the only way they could by sacrificing their own livelihood and sustenance - an approach adopted by the church in later years. Langley Spooking - not sure either referring to the CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia or some British intelligence goings-on in Langley Berkshire? Personal observation on this song - pretty scathing on the US invasion
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Post by meliorasequamur on Apr 20, 2014 9:00:24 GMT
The Engineer: All along the new straight track we plough the old fields under. Seven good feet and a quarter inch, broad rails to steal the thunder. 100 picks in '36 sent navvies to meet their maker as black Box Tunnel worms its way past the Company undertaker. Hard, cast in iron, that engineer: God bless Isambard! Piston-scraping, furnace-busting, (he) plays the winning card. Rain, Steam, Speed at Maidenhead - Turner's vision wide. Over bridges, girders, hot-driven rivets safely guide passenger wagons from Paddington to Bristol's briny blue. On to break the waves, with a thousand horses, turn the churning screw. Hard, cast in iron, that engineer: God bless Isambard! Piston-scraping, furnace-busting, (he) plays the winning card. But those bonnie lads from way 'oop North, had to have the final laugh: the ripe new age was the standard gauge, four foot, eight and a half. And rolling out across all Europe, across the mad, bad Empire world came the age of steam and the engines roaring, bold brazen Jack unfurled. Arching palaces at Praed Street, stand lofty and serene; home to their maker and his last two miles to sleepy Kensal Green. Hard, cast in iron, that engineer: God bless Isambard! Piston-scraping, furnace-busting, (he) plays the winning card. This song is about the most famous British engineer -- Isambard Kingdom Brunel (1806 - 1859). (http://i.telegraph.co.uk/multimedia/archive/01804/isambard_1804271c.jpg) He built dockyards, the Great Western Railway, a series of steamships including the first propeller-driven transatlantic steamship and numerous important bridges and tunnels. His designs revolutionised public transport and modern engineering. "new straight track" - the Great Western Railway he built, linking London Paddington to Bristol (later to Exeter). "seven good feet and a quarter inch" - Brunel decided to use the 7 ft 1/4 inch broad gauge for his track, which he thought would make trains run more comfortably at hight speed "black Box Tunnel" -- in the area around Bath, build by Brunel for the Great Western Railway. "100 picks in '36 sent navvies to meet their maker" - "navvies" were the workers who excavated the tunnel. Due to many geological problems in the construciton of Box Tunnel, approximately a hundred worked died during its making. The construction began in 1838, and I'm not sure why the song mentioned 1836 (perhaps for rhyming purposes?) "Piston-scraping, furnace busting" - reference to trains "he plays the winning card" - Brunel believed in a revolution of means of transport in Britain, which proved valuable "Rain, Steam, Speed at Maidenhead - Turner's vision wide" - Brunel built one of his railway bridges in Maidenhead. This bridge appeared in a painting by painted by J.M.W. Turner, called "Rain, Steam and Speed - The Greater Railway" (1844). en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Rain_Steam_and_Speed_the_Great_Western_Railway.jpg"passengers' wagon from Paddington to Bristol's briny blue" - trains of the Great Western Railway joined London Paddington station to Bristol on the boundary with Wales. Bristol lies on the mouth of the river Severn, also called "Bristol Channel" or "Severn Sea". "On to break the waves, with a thousand hoses, turn the churning screw" - Brunel made the blueprint project for the construction of what would later be called the Clifton Suspension Bridge, passing over the Bristol Channel. However, he also built the world’s first underwater tunnel, crossing the Thames from Rotherhithe to Wapping, in 1843. "But those bonnie lads from way 'oop North had to have the final laugh / The ripe new age was the standard gauge, four feet and a half" - Brunel had many disagreements with other engineers about the width of the track gauge. Whereas he opted for the broader 7 ft and 1/2 in, as he thought it was safer for high-speed trains, other engineers supported the 4 ft and 1/2 in one. Debates ended with the victory of the latter in the 1880s. The development and use of the narrow gauge first started in the North-Western part of England. "And rolling across all Europe, across the mad, bad Empire world / Came the age of steam and the engines roaring, bold brazen Jack unfurled" - the narrow gauge was then used throughout Europe and the steam train lines in the British Empire. "Arching palaces at Praed Street, home to their maker" - found around the area of London Paddington station, the huge arches of which were built by Brunel. "and his last two miles to sleepy Kensal Green" - Brunel was buried in the cemetery of Kensal Green (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Brunel_Family_Grave_-Kensal_Green_Cemetery_-5July2006.jpg), in North-West London.
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Post by nonrabbit on Apr 20, 2014 9:34:20 GMT
Our footsteps o'er the Doggerland, Chased retreating ice and snow, left us breathing high and dry, Land's End to Scapa flow, The seeds of Albion , wind-blown free, scattered to the moors, dormant beneath the soggy heath where stouter oaks will grow. All across the Doggerland All across before the tides. Across with boar and elk and wolves. Take the highlands near and wide. Strike with rock and flint and bone, follow trail and hoof. Onwards to another place, a place to raise a roof. And these four walls to shelter us upon this blessed plot: This earth, this realm, this England - island, alone, aloof. All across the Doggerland All across before the tides. Across with boar and elk and wolves. Take the highlands near and wide. Back across the Doggerland, Costa villa overkill. Warm farmhouses in Tuscany challenge Winter's will. We pensionable, geriatric, sun-creased wrinklies long for this earth, this realm, this England, a burial ground to fill. All across the Doggerland All across before the tides. Across with luggage, kids and sunscreen. Melted mortgage, dreams that died. All across the Doggerland All across before the tides. Across with boar and elk and wolves. Take the highlands near and wide. Scapa Flow - area of water in the Orkney Islands, Scotland. Albion - ancient name for Great Britain
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Post by nonrabbit on Apr 20, 2014 9:47:22 GMT
Heavy Metals:I am the smith. I feed my melt-pot, fashion carbon steely blades while coulter and the mouldboard stab and break the clod in forest glades. In sultry peace and blood-raised anger, I hammer out my forging trade. Lockheed, Fokker, Curtis, Hawker, Avro, Gloster, Handley Page, Colt, Beretta, Walther, Mauser, Springfield, Ruger in a rage. Holland, Holland, Boss and Purdey, Woodward, Greener: golden age. Every atom ofthe arsenal forged in distant dying sun in unholy Trinity now lends new form to plough and gun. Harry S. and Oppenheimer, Fermi, Teller, what have you done? And did they pray that He may guide us in His ways, now battle's won? coulter mouldboard - parts of the seed drill clod - a lump of clay Ruger in a rage - think it might be a reference to firearm company? Teller - father of the hydrogen bomb Fermi - Enrico Fermi?
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Post by nonrabbit on Apr 20, 2014 10:02:51 GMT
The brash North wind strikes upon the isle of Lindisfarne. I offer searching souls the wisdom of my years. These lessons writ in book of ages holy, past. The agony, the righteous path to steer between the waves, the dark abyss, tied to the mast. This sponge of pragmatic Constantine mops them all up and wipes them clean. It's all okay, it's all official. The Christ child advent here to be seen. Saturn's Solstice, Yuletide blotted, blended in cynic innocence. Meet in Milan and host the party, safer to sit astride the fence. What is this book? These airy pages? Scribed and scribbled with latitude. Tallest tales for poor and needy in wide- eyed wonder at faith renewed. Words of gospel and redemption, absolution if we repent Emperor's deathbed, late salvation, baptism in dubious testament. There's a wild child coming. There's an angry man. There's a new age dawning here, to an old age plan. Manic mother, her child gone missing: found in the temple with the elder men. Gone about His Father's business. Yeah - but he soon goes missing once again. Ducked his head with the mad-John prophet. West bank desert doubts and fear. White magic, healing, and exorcism: got twelve good men - now the gang's all here. There's a wild child coming. There's an angry man. There's a new age dawning here, to an old age plan. Proclamation, divine seed sown. (Did he really say that thing?) On donkey colt, calm, to the Passion, knowing full well what the charge must bring. The body bread, a farewell supper, bounty silver, a kiss betrayed lt's a long, hard haul, that Via Dolorosa. No last contrition, quite unafraid. There's a wild child coming. There's an angry man. There's a new age dawning here, to an old age plan. Lindisfarne - the Holy Island situated on the NE coast of Britain, important centre of Celtic Christianity. www.lindisfarne.org.uk/Constantine - Constantine the Great,who favoured Christianity www.historyofyork.org.uk/themes/constantine-the-greatVia Dolorosa - "Way of sorrows" a path in Jerusalem allegedly the path that Jesus walked.
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Post by meliorasequamur on Apr 20, 2014 10:05:18 GMT
The Pax Britannica: I came to woo you at behest of Uncle Leo, did my best to charm and Hatter, sooth, lay thoughts of scheming Saxon Prince to rest. Just seventeen, you were emboldened, turned away plain Orange boy and made for me a consort haven in your heart, haven of joy. Now Empire spills a growing blot across the atlas, leaves its mark. The hands of men in iron ships stoke their boilers, fan the spark. Generous in deed and promise, our emissaries make fair trade and pay with sovereign Queenly coin for goods and worldly fortunes made. We will win them and contain them, not by Enneld Pattern gun: no hard coercion, whip or stick but ten good shillings to be won. See, we offer contracts clear in English, plain as it appears in small print, some trifling matters: not important, never fear. Pax Britannica, Pax Britannica, rules the headland and the wave. Hansa spirit will enrich us, keep us from an early grave. Sweet Victoria, Mother England, gracious queen whom God will save. We'll leave them gifts of architecture, engineering, laws and more. The willow bat, the bowler hat of gentlemen who keep the score. Head-up code of moral conduct, never minions to deceive. Straight the ball and, best ofall, when time is come, we take our leave. Pax Britannica, Pax Britannica, rules the headland and the wave. Hansa spirit will enrich us, keep us from an early grave. My sweet Victoria, your dearest Albert; two ledger lines above the stave. This song is written in the voice of Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha (1819 - 1861), Prince Consort to Queen Victoria (who reigned 1833 - 1901). "I came to woo you at behest of Uncle Leo, did my best" -- Albert wooed Victoria, who was is cousin, following their uncle's idea (Leopold, King of the Belgians) "to charm and Hatter, sooth, lay thoughts of scheming Saxon Prince to rest" ["and made for me a consort haven in your heart, haven of joy."]- Victoria accepted to marry a Saxe-Coburg prince ("Saxon") "Just seventeen, you were emboldened, turned away plain Orange boy" - young Victoria had the courage to turn down the suitor her uncle, King William IV, had proposed, that is to say, Prince Alexander, second son of the Prince of Orange. "Now Empire spills a growing blot across the atlas, leaves its mark. / The hands of men in iron ships stoke their boilers, fan the spark." - those were the years of maximum expansion and power of the British Empire. "Generous in deed and promise, our emissaries make fair trade / and pay with sovereign Queenly coin for goods and worldly fortunes made." - British merchants were trading in the colonies, but it wasn't "fair trade" (ironic), paying in British pounds. "We will win them and contain them, not by Enneld Pattern gun: / no hard coercion, whip or stick but ten good shillings to be won." - Colonised people shouldn't be foced to stick to the colonisers' rules by force (the Enfield Pattern 1853 rifle-musket was in use in the British Empire from 1853 to 1867), but through financial encouragement. "See, we offer contracts clear in English, plain as it appears / in small print, some trifling matters: not important, never fear." - the contracts stipulated between the British and the colonised were of course more favourable to the British, and were not transparent and clear. "Pax Britannica, Pax Britannica, rules the headland and the wave." - Pax Britannica ("the British Peace), a period of relative peace in Europe and the world (1815–1914), which saw the consolidation of the global hegemony of the British Empire "Hansa spirit will enrich us, keep us from an early grave." - The Hanseatic League, known as Hansa or Hanse in various Germanic languages, was a 13th–17th century alliance of European trading cities. The line means that from the historical spirit of trade that was the agenda of the Hanseatic league, the Empire would make much profit worldwide. "Sweet Victoria, Mother England, gracious queen whom God will save." - "Mother England" as mother of the nation. "God will save" refers to the national anthem "God Save the Queen." "We'll leave them gifts of architecture, engineering, laws and more." - reference to the British colonial legacy to the colonised "The willow bat, the bowler hat of gentlemen who keep the score." - reference to the game of cricket: the willow bat and the bowler hat worn by the "umpire" who keeps the score (but Ian is putting together two things: a hat possibly worn by umpires and the renowned Victorian hat called "bowler hat") "Head-up code of moral conduct, never minions to deceive. / Straight the ball and, best of all, when time is come, we take our leave." - These lines seem to mix up the attitude of the British colonialists in the 1960s with that of the Victorian period. The British Empire kept going until the 1960s, when colonies began to gain their independence, which was kind of depicted by the British as if they were letting colonies carry on their political life with an own government, which would have been improved by the British century-long presence there. Instead, in the Victorian period, the last thing the British were thinking of was to leave the colonies... "My sweet Victoria, your dearest Albert; two ledger lines above the stave." - a "ledger line" is an additional line added above the musical stave or pentagram (5 lines) to fit notes that do not fit into the five lines. One ledger line above is note A, which would fit with Albert's initial. But it says two lines, which would be note C. So, I'm not sure. A "ledger" is also a book to keep financial accounts and creditor/debtor information. Maybe a pun on financial issues? I'm not sure.
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Post by nonrabbit on Apr 20, 2014 10:08:41 GMT
Meliora Sequamur: (Let Us Follow Better Things.) Mortarboard, gown, hood and lace come guide me in learning, in ascension where minds may meet and twitters tweet in modern Latin, in declension. O Domine, O Magister - we aspiring angels sing with one tongue, forever young, let us follow better things. In saintly word and perfect grammar, to Academia's lofty space. The trivium, quadrivium, all baser thoughts now to efface. O Domine, O Magister - we aspiring angels sing with one tongue, forever young, let us follow better things. Cruel Bunter-bashing, cane-a-thrashing, lines, detention, soon forgot. O dark ploy! This grammar school boy has paid the price and bought the lot. In the quiet hours of life's twilight, old school ties and photographs, I call to mind the sore behind, the tears, the last and longest laughs. Empty desks and inkwells, darkened chapels, cobweb corridors silent now. Ghostly purple robes and dusty trencher, what could be holier than thou? O Domine, O Magister - we aspiring angels sing with one tongue, forever young, let us follow better things. Meliora sequamur: may we follow better things. O Domine, O Magister - Oh Lady Oh Teacher Oh Master? not sure trivium quadrium - the crossroads the fork
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Post by nonrabbit on Apr 20, 2014 10:17:19 GMT
The Turnpike Inn: Go no farther: access denied down byways, freeways of the past. The superhighway tollhouse humbly begs your pause, so just hold fast. A word in ear, free marketeer suggests you ponders, and takes your choice. For right of passage, freight or message, change your horses, raise your voice in protest at the pretty penny taken for your mortal sins. But dally now in sweet surrender, drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn. Beware the brigand, pistols drawn, who offers life for modest fee and ends his days like poor John Austin, last man on the Tyburn Tree. The palest ale, the stoutest porter fortify the heart, the breast. Weary head on eider pillow, horse blanket over, down to rest. Though we too steal from honest wage, come lie with us, good kith and kin and dally now in sweet surrender, drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn. Drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn. Drown your sorrows at the Turnpike Inn. Drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn. Though we too steal from honest wage, come lie with us, good kith and kin and dally now in sweet surrender, drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn. Drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn. Drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn. John Austin, Tyburn Tree - last Highwayman hanged at the gallows in Tyburn, Middlesex in 1783 porter - a dark style of beer originating in London in the 18th century, a well-hopped beer made from brown malt, the name derives from its popularity with street and river porters.
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Post by maddogfagin on Apr 20, 2014 10:47:30 GMT
Heavy Metals:Lockheed, Fokker, Curtis, Hawker, Avro, Gloster, Handley Page, Famous aircraft manufacturers Lockheed Fokker Curtis Hawker Avro Gloster Handley Page
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Post by maddogfagin on Apr 20, 2014 11:20:02 GMT
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Post by maddogfagin on Apr 20, 2014 11:35:23 GMT
Turnpike, ancient Turnpike, modern
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Post by earsoftin on Apr 20, 2014 13:48:32 GMT
Heavy Metals
Sorry to be pedantic - coulter and mouldboard are parts of a plough, not a seed drill. The coulter opens up the ground and the mouldboard turns the earth over, forming the furrow. Just the sort of thing a local smith would fashion/repair - a seed drill might be a little too complex, which is a shame given the potential allusion to the original Jethro Tull. Great thread though, especially the explanation about Prince Leo and the Orange Boy, which completely eluded me.
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Post by earsoftin on Apr 20, 2014 13:59:37 GMT
Meliora Sequamar
'The quadrivium consisted of arithmetic, geometry, music, and astronomy. These followed the preparatory work of the trivium made up of grammar, logic, and rhetoric'. (pinched from Wikipedia for speed!) Domine, magister is 'master, teacher'. I think the backward reference (very distant, I accept!) is back to the importance of his time at Blackpool Grammar School, where Latin continued to hold its sway into the 1960s. And so the connection is to the long hold of Oxbridge with its classical emphasis on aspects of the English education system, especially the grammar schools which were so important to elements of the middle class and which had overtones of the upper class education system (the public schools to which Billy Bunter firmly belongs). The Anderson link is perhaps back to Wind Up:
When I was young and they packed me off to school and taught me how not to play the game, I didn't mind if they groomed me for success, or if they said that I was a fool. So I left there in the morning with their God tucked underneath my arm their half-assed smiles and the book of rules.
What he thought (not very much) of his headmaster is clear in that song and I think this song is both about how important a particular tradition of education was to the country and how important it was to the shaping of a certain IA.
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Post by nonrabbit on Apr 20, 2014 14:31:36 GMT
Meliora Sequamar 'The quadrivium consisted of arithmetic, geometry, music, and astronomy. These followed the preparatory work of the trivium made up of grammar, logic, and rhetoric'. (pinched from Wikipedia for speed!) Domine, magister is 'master, teacher'. I think the backward reference (very distant, I accept!) is back to the importance of his time at Blackpool Grammar School, where Latin continued to hold its sway into the 1960s. And so the connection is to the long hold of Oxbridge with its classical emphasis on aspects of the English education system, especially the grammar schools which were so important to elements of the middle class and which had overtones of the upper class education system (the public schools to which Billy Bunter firmly belongs). The Anderson link is perhaps back to Wind Up: When I was young and they packed me off to school and taught me how not to play the game, I didn't mind if they groomed me for success, or if they said that I was a fool. So I left there in the morning with their God tucked underneath my arm their half-assed smiles and the book of rules. What he thought (not very much) of his headmaster is clear in that song and I think this song is both about how important a particular tradition of education was to the country and how important it was to the shaping of a certain IA. Many thanks meliorasequamar and earsoftin for these explanations not at all pedantic especially as we're at the early stages of exploring this album. The only thing is I'm a bit confused myself - admin wise as I started two threads, this one as a continuation from Equus posting the lyrics in order to explain some of them and the other - Erraticus Complexus to explore the album's theme in greater detail. I suppose it's inevitable that there might be an overlap between the two. However not being a pedantic mod in the *rse - not much! ! but for clarity of viewing maybe we could continue the fuller explanations on the Complexus thread. Many thanks.
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Post by nonrabbit on Apr 20, 2014 15:28:13 GMT
After These WarsAfter battle, with wounds to lick and beaus and belles all reuniting. Rationing, austerity: it did us good after the fighting. Now, time to bid some fond farewells and walk away from empires crumbling. Post-war baby-boom to fuel with post- Victorian half-dressed fumbling. I see a screen, grey cathode tube in walnut cabinet, pride of place in holy family living room. Clipped- tone announcer, powdered face. And now to mould public opinion, sanctify the good and great. Lordly over his dominion, brash Television seals our fate. After these wars, when gentler winds were blowing. After these wars, when stocking tops were showing. When the Co-op gave us daily bread and penicillin raised the dead and combine harvesters kept us fed, after these wars. We thanked the Yank and thanked the Lord for sparing us from dark invasion. Now to liberate, rebuild and balance Europe's new equation. Spooky spies in from the cold with lies and secrets to be sold to bigger brothers, bigger bombs, le Carré thrillers to be told. We take our place amongst those others who would punch above their weight. Divest ourselves of glowing mantle, mantle of old Britain Great. Bit part cast in Hollywood, ripe old thespian, tolerated. World-weary ham upon the stage, evergreen but over-rated. After these wars, when gentler winds were blowing. After these wars, when stocking tops were showing. When the Co-op gave us daily bread and penicillin raised the dead and combine harvesters kept us fed, after these wars. Co-op - nationwide shops/business set up over hundred years ago too varied to explain here www.co-operative.coop/corporate/aboutus/ourhistory/
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Post by nonrabbit on Apr 20, 2014 15:48:04 GMT
New Blood, Old VeinsNew blood, old veins, ringing in the new dawn. Like it, lump it, old chips with curry on. Let's get to it! Tempus fugit. Time to cheat the coroner. Affordable package tours to the land of Johnny Foreigner. New blood, old veins, kids can't wait to be gone. Next door, jealous neighbours peeping through the curtains drawn. Half-timbered Morris Traveller. Pop the luggage in the back. On the ferry, getting merry, bending over, builder's crack. Out there, far beyond Victorian piers and palisades. Have to toss the candy floss. No more ginger beers or lemonades. Roll on, roll off. Duty free, Dover, Calais. Wet the lip, a hefty sip. Cheap brandy, jolly Beaujolais. Time to visit fresher places, don't be fearful, we'll join the clan. Just be mindful of who's the master, don't pinch the sun bed. Understand: we're going mental, continental, socks and sandals, Tapas bar. Got a phrasebook, bought a timeshare, lessons in Spanish guitar. Goodbye Blackpool, going where sun is guaranteed. Drink it down,throw it up. Watneys Red: just what I need. Knotted hankie worn too late, melanoma's such a pain. Not too far from hot Malaga to Luton Airport in the rain. Morris Traveller - British economy car that appeared in 1948 and on every road. i62.images obliterated by tinypic/a0v520.jpg[/IMG] Builders crack - that glimpse of flesh when someone who hasn't bought the correct fit of trousers bends over - commonly seen on builders. Watneys Red - well known beer in the 60's and 70's
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Post by nonrabbit on Apr 20, 2014 15:50:24 GMT
In For a Pound
I've started, so I'll finish. I'm here, so I'll stay. Dally with a little lady, met along the way. In for a penny through the turnstile gate. Searching for the motherlode before it's too late. Barley grain sprouting, spilled upon the ground. I'm the mad hatter, getting fatter, in for a pound. I'm the mad hatter, getting fatter, in for a pound. In for a pound. In for a pound. In for a pound.
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Post by nonrabbit on Apr 20, 2014 15:51:56 GMT
The Browning Of The Green
Exponential family planning: let me play the numbers game, sign up for some benefits, get my dues and stake a claim. Spill out to suburbia then spread onwards to the country wide and when the last plot's taken, I'll spill out on to the other side.
It's the browning of the green: we'll be tight as canned sardine. Lemmings to the right and the left of us and all points in between... It's the browning of the green.
Be fruitful: nothing to it. Fill the earth, subdue it, multiply. It's written in that Goodly Book. So, it's really best that I comply. Another baby-booming bloomer? Imbecile fecundity? Another mouth, but what the Hell? Child benefits, they come for free.
It's the browning of the green: we'll be tight as canned sardine. Lemmings to the right and the left of us and all points in between... It's the browning of the green.
A little boy, a little girl: quite perfect but it won't suffice. Bouncing bairns upon my knee; six or seven might be nice. Come, time to go with Daddy, find ourselves some open playground space on these concrete fields of England, this blessed realm, this blessed place.
It's the browning of the green: we'll be tight as canned sardine. Lemmings to the right and the left of us and all points in between... It's the browning of the green.
Child Benefit - non-means tested government payment for every child.
Bairns - children - Scottish word.
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Post by maddogfagin on Apr 20, 2014 16:27:41 GMT
After These WarsI see a screen, grey cathode tube in walnut cabinet, pride of place in holy family living room. Clipped- tone announcer, powdered face. And now to mould public opinion, sanctify the good and great. Lordly over his dominion, brash Television seals our fate. Early television set Lord Reith, upholder of Britain's morals and first Director-General of the British Broadcasting Corporation
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Post by steelmonkey on Apr 21, 2014 0:50:30 GMT
This is the best thread ever on our forum...this is what it is all about...literally and figuratively. I look forward to a slow and more absorptive reading of each and every post...apologize in advance for having nothing to contribute but kudos, admiration and appreciation, thus far. I figured out about 15% of the data above on my own....quite pleased re: Willy Conker = William the Conqueror......but 85% of the info above is new, appreciated and obvious as correct upon illumination. Homo wiki be us !
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Post by nonrabbit on Apr 21, 2014 7:28:51 GMT
This is the best thread ever on our forum...this is what it is all about...literally and figuratively. I look forward to a slow and more absorptive reading of each and every post...apologize in advance for having nothing to contribute but kudos, admiration and appreciation, thus far. I figured out about 15% of the data above on my own....quite pleased re: Willy Conker = William the Conqueror......but 85% of the info above is new, appreciated and obvious as correct upon illumination. Homo wiki be us ! and I know I'm a nagging Harpy but for your viewing pleasure please allow me to escort you to Complexus Erraticus where you can relax and discuss the many turns and twists of this new production in greater length - with free refreshments. jethrotull.proboards.com/thread/2661/erraticus-complexusand will someone please tell me if I've got the heading the right way round? I vaguely remember from my Latin/Classics classes that you write it the way you speak?
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