The Bloke On Who Wants To Be A...
Film, Media & TV2 mins ago
Songs that tell stories?
Im trying to put a list of songs that tell stories, proper stories with a begining a middle and an end, nothing vague, nothing un heard of.
If currently got
The devil went down to georgia, charlie daniels band
Teddy bear, Red Some one
Coward of the county, kenny rogers
Up the juction, squeeze,
You get the picture.
If currently got
The devil went down to georgia, charlie daniels band
Teddy bear, Red Some one
Coward of the county, kenny rogers
Up the juction, squeeze,
You get the picture.
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Definitely check out Ode to Billie Joe by Bobby Gentry.
Details here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ode_to_Billie_Joe
Details here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ode_to_Billie_Joe
Please Mr Gravedigger by David Bowie
There's a little churchyard just along the way
It used to be Lambeth's finest array
Of tombstones, epitaphs, wreaths, flowers, all that jazz
Till the war came along and someone dropped a bomb on the lot
And in this little yard, there's a little old man
With a little shovel in his little bitty hand
He seems to spend all his days puffing fags and digging graves
He hates the reverend vicar and he lives all alone in his home
"A-choo, excuse me"
Please, Mr. Gravedigger, don't feel ashamed
As you dig little holes for the dead and the maimed
Please, Mr. Gravedigger, I couldn't care
If you found a golden locket full of some girl's hair and you put it in your pocket
"God, it's pouring down"
Her mother doesn't know about your sentimental joy
She thinks it's down below with the rest of her toys
And Ma wouldn't understand so I won't tell
So keep your golden locket all safely hid away in your pocket
Yes, Mr. G.D., you see me everyday
St-a-choo, standing in the same spot by a certain grave
Mary-Ann was only ten, full of life and, oh, so gay
And I was the wicked man who took her life away
"Very selfish, oh, God"
No, Mr. G.D., you won't tell
And just to make sure that you keep it to yourself
I've started digging holes, my friend
And this one here's for you
Lifted, our girl, she apparently doesn't know of it
"Hello, misses, never thought she'd be a little girl, bloody obscene
Catch pneumonia or something in this rain"
There's a little churchyard just along the way
It used to be Lambeth's finest array
Of tombstones, epitaphs, wreaths, flowers, all that jazz
Till the war came along and someone dropped a bomb on the lot
And in this little yard, there's a little old man
With a little shovel in his little bitty hand
He seems to spend all his days puffing fags and digging graves
He hates the reverend vicar and he lives all alone in his home
"A-choo, excuse me"
Please, Mr. Gravedigger, don't feel ashamed
As you dig little holes for the dead and the maimed
Please, Mr. Gravedigger, I couldn't care
If you found a golden locket full of some girl's hair and you put it in your pocket
"God, it's pouring down"
Her mother doesn't know about your sentimental joy
She thinks it's down below with the rest of her toys
And Ma wouldn't understand so I won't tell
So keep your golden locket all safely hid away in your pocket
Yes, Mr. G.D., you see me everyday
St-a-choo, standing in the same spot by a certain grave
Mary-Ann was only ten, full of life and, oh, so gay
And I was the wicked man who took her life away
"Very selfish, oh, God"
No, Mr. G.D., you won't tell
And just to make sure that you keep it to yourself
I've started digging holes, my friend
And this one here's for you
Lifted, our girl, she apparently doesn't know of it
"Hello, misses, never thought she'd be a little girl, bloody obscene
Catch pneumonia or something in this rain"
Little Bombardier by David Bowie
War made him a soldier
Little Frankie Mear
Peace left him a loser
The little bombardier
Lines of worry appeared with age
Unskilled hands that knew no trade
Spent his time in the picture house
The little bombardier
Frankie drank his money
The little that he made
Told his woes to no man
Friendless lonely days
Then one day in the A.B.C.
Four bright eyes gazed longingly
At the ice-cream in the hand
Of the little bombardier
Sunshine entered our Frankie's days
Gone his worries, his hopeless maze
His life was fun and his heart was full of joy
Two young children had changed his aims
He gave them toffees and played their games
He bought them presents with every coin he made
Then two gentlemen called on him
Asked him for his name
Why was he friends with the children?
Were they just a game?
"Leave them alone or we'll get sore
We've had blokes like you in the station before"
The hand of authority said, "No more"
To the little bombardier
Packed his bags, his heart in pain
Wiped a tear and caught a train
Not to be seen in the town again
The little bombardier
War made him a soldier
Little Frankie Mear
Peace left him a loser
The little bombardier
Lines of worry appeared with age
Unskilled hands that knew no trade
Spent his time in the picture house
The little bombardier
Frankie drank his money
The little that he made
Told his woes to no man
Friendless lonely days
Then one day in the A.B.C.
Four bright eyes gazed longingly
At the ice-cream in the hand
Of the little bombardier
Sunshine entered our Frankie's days
Gone his worries, his hopeless maze
His life was fun and his heart was full of joy
Two young children had changed his aims
He gave them toffees and played their games
He bought them presents with every coin he made
Then two gentlemen called on him
Asked him for his name
Why was he friends with the children?
Were they just a game?
"Leave them alone or we'll get sore
We've had blokes like you in the station before"
The hand of authority said, "No more"
To the little bombardier
Packed his bags, his heart in pain
Wiped a tear and caught a train
Not to be seen in the town again
The little bombardier
