The Incredible String Band

> Certainly, the children have seen them,
In quiet places where the moss grows green.
Colored, shells, jangle, together,
The wind is cold, the year is old
The trees whisper together,
and bend in the wind, they lean...
La la la la la, la la la, la la la...
Oh, next week a monkey is coming to stay,
Mmmm, mmm, mmm,
If I was a witches hat,
Sitting on her head like a paraffin stove,
I'd fly away and be a bat,
'Cross the air, I would rove
Step-ping like a tight-rope wal-ker
Put-ting one foot af-ter ano-ther
Wearing black cherries for rings

Seasons they change while cold blood is raining
I have been waiting beyond the years
Now over the skyline I see you're travelling
Brothers from all time gathering here
Come let us build the ship of the future
In an ancient pattern that journeys far
Come let us set sail for the always island
Through seas of leaving to the summer stars

Seasons they change but with gaze unchanging
O deep eyed sisters is it you I see?
Seeds of beauty ye bear within you
Of unborn children glad and free
Within your fingers the fates are spinning
The sacred binding of the yellow grain
Scattered we were when the long night was breaking
But in the bright morning converse again.

Cold morning sun to show me where I spent the night
Sun can you find through porthole on the anchored sea ?me
Then I'm walking on the prom deck asking the sky
Oh someone won't you hear my cry
Come and stop my questioning, stop my lie
And maybe give me a sign to show me it's alright

Seagull come fly me your song your high song

It's very true there's nothing to complain of here
You know I've tried and not found an enemy to fear ?here
There's safety in the warm thoughts all around me
Adventure in the strange port quay
But still a questioning in the quiet of me
Why do I need a sign to show me it's alright

Seagull come fly me your song your high song
All right, out on the rolling, rolling sea
Now.

factory chimney cough yellow smoke
trucks and trains go rumbling
throw down your key from your window high
your man's out drinking
neighbours thinking evil
lead by the the lights of your electric fire
your grey slips falls around your feet
and across the sheet your nut brown curls go tumbling

we don't have long before he comes home from the bar
I'll be gone a week of sundays
meet me by the bronze horse or the clock tower
try to come Friday, Saturday maybe
don't cry now you'll freak the baby