Robert WYATT
"Rock Bottom" (1974)

SEA SONG
Words and Music by Robert Wyatt

You look different every time you come
from the foam-crested brine
(It's) your skin shining softly in the moonlight
Partly fish, parly porpoise, partly baby sperm whale
Am I yours? Are you mine to play with?
Joking apart when you're drunk
You're terrific when you're drunk
I like you mostly late at night - you're quite all right

But I can't understand the different you
In the morning when it's time to play
at being human for a while
Please smile!

You'll be different in the spring, I know
You're a seasonal beast
Like the starfish that drift in with the tide
So until your blood runs to meet the next full moon
Your madness fits in nicely with my own
Your lunacy fits neatly with my own - my very own

We're not alone...

LAST STRAW
Words and Music by Robert Wyatt

Seaweed tangled in our home from home
Reminds me of your rocky bottom
Please don't wait for the paperweight
Err on the good side
Touch us when we collapse
Into the water we'll go head over heel
We'll not grow fat inside the mammary gland

Seaweed tangled in our home from home
Reminds me of your rocky bottom
Please don't wait for the paperweight
Err on the good side
Touch us when we collapse
Into the water we'll go head over heel
A head behind me buried deep in the sand

LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD HIT THE ROAD
Words and Music by Robert Wyatt

Orlandon't tell me oh no !
Don't say, oh God don't tell me... or dear me
Heavens above, oh no no
Stop
Please, oh deary me
What in heaven's name?
Oh blimey!
Mercy me
woe are we
Oh dear...
oh stop it
stop it

You've been so kind, I know I know
So why did I hurt you?
I didn't mean to hurt you
But I'll keep trying and I'm sure you will too

ALIFIE
Words and Music by Robert Wyatt

Not nit not, nit no not, nit nit folly bololy
Alife my larder, Alife my larder
I can't forsake you, or forsqueak you
Alife my larder, Alifie my larder
Confiscate or make you late, you, you
Alife my larder, Alife my larder
Not nit not, nit no not, nit nit folly bololy
Burly bunch the water mole
Heli plop and finger hole
Not a-was it bundy, see?
For jangle and bojangle
Trip trip pipipipi tip-pit landerim
Alife my larder, Alife my larder

LITTLE RED ROBIN HOOD HIT THE ROAD
Words and Music by Robert Wyatt

In the Garden of England, dead moles lie inside their holes
The dead-end tunnels crumble in the rain underfoot (innit a shame ?)

Can't you see them?
Roots can't hold them
Bugs console them

I fight with the handle of my little brown broom
I pull out the wires of the telephone
I hurt in the head and I hurt in the aching bone
Now I smash up the telly with remains of the broken phone
I'm fighting for the crust of the little brown loaf
I want it, I want it, I want it! Give it to me!
(I give it you back when I finish the lunch/tea)

I lie in the road trying the trip up the passing cars
Yes, me and the hedge-dog, we're bursting the tyres all day
As we roll down the highway towards the setting sun
I reflect on the life of the highwayman yum-yum

Now I smash up the telly and what's left of the broken phone