Travelling Tinker Man and Other Rhymes Read online

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  Contents

  Cover

  Welcome Page

  Display Options Notice

  Foreword

  John Lennon

  Destiny

  A land fit for heroes

  Mods and Rockers

  Fairground attraction

  The Royal Docks

  Theatre of dreams

  Looking back

  Ships that pass in the night

  Music

  Travelling tinker man

  Religion

  Like moths to a flame

  Dad

  Firework night

  All along the watch tower

  It’s gonna be all right

  Maybe it’s because I’m a Londoner

  The pavilion

  All the pennies in the world

  Shining stars

  Silver bird

  Remembrance

  Beano day

  The boxer

  Celebrity

  Rock on

  Over the rainbow

  The boy

  Upton Park

  The sea

  Cowboy

  Are you still my true love?

  My three sons

  Love after love

  Oh suburbia!

  Opening night

  Painted clown

  On and on

  Flamingo

  Shooting star

  Into the woods

  Bankers

  Ricky and Carol

  Working men’s club

  Goodbye first love

  Levi

  Autumn

  Artisans

  City boy

  Fairies in the garden

  Troubadours

  Like a rolling stone

  La la land

  Time machine

  R.S.V.P.

  If I could

  Be happy

  Providence

  Milk and honey

  Mother nature

  Today is my birthday

  Wales

  Imperial wizard

  Sonny Rae

  Hearts turn to stone

  America

  Stardust

  The sprite

  Verity

  Heart beats like a drum

  Dangerous

  Sweet dreams

  All together

  At the end of the day

  About this Book

  About the Author

  An Invitation from the Publisher

  Copyright

  Foreword

  Having written many lyrics for songs and shows, I thought it would be an adventure to attempt to write a selection of rhymes that captured moments in my life. I’ve called them rhymes, as I thought to call them poems would be pretentious.

  In Travelling Tinker Man & Other Rhymes, I write about experiences of a charmed life, that may – I hope – resonate with you, the reader. The subjects I write about encompass music, family, fame and growing up in post-war England.

  From flights of fancy, to situations I’ve lived through, here are observations and thoughts from boyhood to manhood. I hope that inside my thoughts and memories you will find the spark of your own memories and perhaps you will give a smile of recognition as you travel along the way.

  David Essex OBE

  John Lennon

  Strange to look back, how fate deals its hand,

  I remember you mop head, in that world-changing band.

  We covered your songs in a pub by the docks,

  The locals would sing, the locals would rock.

  I wanted Muddy Waters, but they wanted you,

  The sound of the Sixties to help them get through.

  She Loves You, Money, Twist and Shout,

  Those covers we did would knock them all out.

  I was blinkered and closed to the music you made,

  Girls screaming and stuff when you hit the stage.

  It ain’t Memphis Slim, it’s not Buddy Guy,

  It was only your looks that made the girls sigh.

  But you and your brothers, your brothers-in-arms,

  Your songs and your voice would sound an alarm,

  A bell that would ring with respect for you, John,

  A respect for you, man, I admit I was wrong.

  Your humour, your wit, your gift and your love,

  Like Jesus, you said, a gift from above.

  An honour to meet you that time in New York,

  At the Grammy Awards, when we had our first talk,

  When you told me Rock On was one of the best,

  You thought it was special, stood out from the rest.

  Those songs that you wrote, the songs that you sang,

  Were part of my life, John, as a boy and a man.

  Folk know where they were the day the King died.

  I’m sorry, I don’t and I don’t think I cried.

  But I remember the minute that you said goodbye,

  I remember that moment and yes, I did cry.

  Destiny

  Fate, the child of destiny, where coincidence clashes with what might have been,

  Crossroads with signposts, this way or that,

  Fortune, charted by an enchanted black cat,

  Which road left to follow and where will it lead?

  Horoscope horrors, a rabbit’s foot wish,

  A shamrock discovered in the grey morning mist.

  It’s all in the book, it’s all written down,

  The twists and the turns, life’s merry go round,

  The circle of life, tomorrow’s surprise,

  Lies waiting and hidden away from our eyes.

  Castles in the sand, journeys that reach

  For distant horizons, with secrets to keep,

  Shadows of past, turning the page with expectant fingers,

  For tomorrow, today,

  But patience and wait, don’t wish life away.

  Give thanks to your life for each breaking day.

  A bump and a bruise will heal well in time

  And black will turn golden when the planets align.

  Walk the path carefully, gently with care,

  For around every corner your fate’s waiting there,

  To carry you somewhere, to strangers unknown,

  In future dark corners, to roll back the stone.

  Then at the end, when destiny closes,

  Look back and smile at your life’s bed of roses.

  A land fit for heroes

  The guns, now silent, the moans of the near dead,

  Like dark and pained whispers, fill up my head.

  What is it for? Why are we here?

  So far away in this hell of a place,

  The smell, the mud, the fear on my face.

  No tears left to cry, old before my time,

  Me, a boy soldier, holding the line,

  For King and for country, for England, for freedom,

  For our way of life and our beautiful children,

  For my people, my wife, so long since I’ve seen them.

  I miss you, Dolly, I miss London town,

  I hope you are safe as the bombs rain down,

  Rain down and down on old London town.

  We are doing our best, love, in this terrible war,

  Doing our best on this strange foreign shore.

  Keep safe now, my darling, and don’t worry about me.

 
When this madness is over and England is free,

  We will dance to the music, we will live life and then,

  Catch up on lost time, all over again.

  We will walk, gal, together, just us, hand in hand,

  You and me, Dolly, and our little man.

  How is he doing, is he missing his dad?

  Please tell him I love him and not to be sad.

  This can’t last forever, one day, love, you’ll see,

  We will be together, you, David and me.

  In your last letter, I remember you said,

  You’d be leaving London for a much safer bed,

  Evacuated somewhere, catching a train,

  You wasn’t sure where, though, a town with no name,

  Somewhere better, safe, away from the Blitz,

  Away from the madness, with the women and kids.

  It’s started again, the guns and the smoke,

  But I’ve got my mates with me, a great bunch of blokes.

  We will win this war, darling, I believe that we will,

  When Jerry surrenders, when he’s had his fill,

  We’ll return to old Blighty and one day I know,

  I’ll be home, back in England, in a land for heroes.

  Mods and Rockers

  Mods and Rockers, Tamla, Ska, Jerry Lee, don’t need a car,

  Lambretta, Vespa and Bonneville, those Brylcream boys remember still.

  Southend, Brighton set the scene for battles like you’ve never seen.

  Fighting on the beaches there and fighting in the town,

  Rock the Mod, Mod the Rock, who will win the crown?

  Dirty greaser, poofy Mod, so, which tribe were you?

  Leather jacket, or anorak and Hush Puppy shoes,

  The girls would scream, the town would shake as we stormed the beach.

  Two armies from a different world, lessons now to teach.

  You’re yesterday, you must be gay, two tribes set to collide,

  Battles won, we count the cost, as out of town we ride.

  Pink jeans torn, leather jackets ripped, Bank Holiday seaside,

  We did good, we won the day, they had nowhere to hide.

  Sorry about your holiday, but you see it had to be done,

  Cos they’re not like us, they’re a different breed, under the Brighton sun.

  The clothes they wear are really square, born in the Fifties style,

  Yeah, well look at you, Mr Fancy Pants, with your pansy rank and file.

  I’m an old-style Rocker, I’m a New Age Mod and never the two shall meet,

  A clash of style, a clash of look, we’re fighting in the street.

  Those days have gone, it’s for the best, fashions ebb and flow.

  What comes next I couldn’t care less, as on and on we go.

  Now binge my drink, no need to think, legless Friday nights,

  Idiots without a brain, just looking for a fight.

  Girls like blokes stand and choke on the city centre street,

  A and E just waits for me, they’ll fix me up a treat.

  Fairground attraction

  Billy the Whizz, Jack the Dipper, hot dogs these dagoes, do you up like a kipper.

  Little Richard, the lord of the ring, rattles the whip, with songs from the crypt,

  Knuckledusters in a cluster, flick knives, greased-up Teddy Boys.

  Roller coaster, win it for her, hit the target, cuddly toys.

  Showmen, attractions, full of action, building nightmares, building dreams,

  Screams of pleasure, hidden treasure, in a pirate’s cove, by a ghostly train.

  Spin my waltzer, bump my bumper, let me ride that ride again,

  Teddy Boy, Teddy Girl, lost inside another world.

  Noise and wonder, generator thunder, jive me, Teddy, make me twirl,

  Roll on up, this ride is leaving, Hayley’s comet, Bill’s kiss curl.

  Helter skelter, tell your fortune, let’s all dance to a different tune,

  Rock ’n’ Roll me why not hold me, underneath this gypsy moon?

  Fairground attraction, full of action, here tonight, but gone too soon.

  The Royal Docks

  I remember the docks, Dad took me to see the ships,

  Just like buildings, sailing in from the sea,

  The smell of the spices, the sweat of the men,

  The Royal Docks was working, way back then.

  From India and China, Australasia too,

  With cargo aplenty for me and for you.

  Stevedores, dockers, plundering cranes,

  Ships from the world with wonderful names.

  Banter, whistling, holds to unload

  And on to the lorries and off down the road.

  Strangers from strange lands, leaving the ship

  And going to shore before the next trip.

  Their colourful language and different face,

  Men from the sea of every race,

  Sheds full of cases of everything,

  Imported and waiting, for country and King.

  Flat caps on the stones waiting for work,

  The lucky ones picked, the other ones hurt,

  Brothers in dockland, mates to a man,

  Doing their best, the best that they can.

  This place was for men, this place was for muscle,

  As I sat on Dad’s shoulders in the hustle and bustle,

  I wondered and thought of worlds far away,

  Across tempest and storm, then the ships seem to say,

  We ride out the storm and towering waves,

  Steel mountains we are, no watery grave.

  No SOS, no lost at sea,

  We deliver our crew and dock safely.

  The Royal Docks have gone now, the severance paid,

  The dockers long gone, into that watery grave.

  Theatre of dreams

  Is there magic here, in these four walls?

  Where actors have trod for history,

  Where journeys have taken surprising turns,

  Where moments are frozen in mystery.

  Tears, laughter, comedy, the tragic,

  The star and spear holder, the drama, the magic,

  Still here in this room, this theatre of dreams,

  A shrine to the arts and the changes of scene,

  The opening, the closing, the tears of goodbye,

  Shine just like diamonds in the past actor’s eye.

  There was once the poet, the King and the Queen,

  The finest performance that you’d ever seen,

  Bow upon bow, applause just like thunder,

  Resonate in these walls and split them asunder,

  With laughter and sighs, with truth and with lies,

  The skeletons of the past, the original cast.

  They were here for your pleasure, here for your joy,

  Waiting for Godot, the Nutcracker’s toys,

  Costumes of fire, make up of gold,

  Gone not forgotten, your torch I still hold.

  The ghosts of your troubadours, the harlequins spin,

  Matinee idols that made ladies’ hearts sing.

  Pantomime horses and men dressed as dames,

  Clowns of the footlights cry out in pain.

  Remember me, I was here, here before you,

  I watch from the gods, I see what you do.

  As you take to the stage in a glow of limelight,

  Another adventure, another first night.

  Looking back

  What’s your favourite colour, mate? Bill said to Ted.

  Dunno, said Ted, could be blue, or it could be red.

  I don’t like yellow, mate, at all and orange, Bill, is horrible.

  I saw an orange motor once, did that look bloody terrible.

  Green is nice, restful and serene.

  Remember those avocado toilets and those lovely matching sinks?

  Funny how taste changes, Bill, it makes you really think.

  I had a Perry Como cut, when I was just thirteen,


  Thought it was the bees’ knees; I was with it as a teen.

  Italian suit, a knitted tie, Italian shoes as well,

  An East End Mod, born really close to the famous old Bow Bells.

  Lambretta or a Vespa was a serious choice to make,

  Ska and R & B, Ted would always take the cake.

  The Sixties, mate, were special; we thought we owned the world.

  In lots of ways, I guess we did, every boy and girl.

  Fashion, music, everything seemed to come from here.

  Yeah, England was the place to be. D’ya want another beer?

  Ships that pass in the night

  You sail your memories across my seven seas,

  Talking in shadows black, you reach to talk to me.

  But how can I move to touch you,

  When my body is far below you

  And my spirit moves to get to you?

  Oh, those ships that pass in the night,

  Sail on, sweet mystery’s flight.

  Dreams, burned by the morning light,

  So near, yet so far from home,

  Too close to touch,

  And all alone.

  The burned-out bridges of the past are still in flame,

  All battles won and lost, they end, to begin again.

  Your banners fly so high, into the darkened sky.

  My spirit moves on up to you,

  Yeah, those ships that pass in the night,

  Sail on, sweet mystery’s flight.

  Dreams, burned by the morning light,

  So near, yet so far from home,

  Too close to touch,

  I’m on my own.

  Music

  Music is a wonderful thing, from the Classics to the songs we sing.

  Moods enhanced, drama heightened, the darkest days can be lightened.

  Majestic Wagner, Elgar, Mozart, so many more; where do I start

  To thank you for your inspired gift? Your work the savage beast does lift.

  Melodies soar into the sky, kissed by angels as they fly.

  Tunes that bring you a memory, when you were young, footloose and free;

  A song takes you back again, to a place or time with a distant friend.

  Maybe you danced in a lover’s arms; perhaps you fell beneath their charms

  As the music played on that special day, a perfect time, I hear you say.

  Carried off by magic wings, wings of music, notes that sing,

  Of a time and place, back there and then, remembering, remembering.