The Mike Weaver Songbook
You can download the lyrics to all my songs (1978-2020) by clicking the link below. Some have never been recorded - others will be released in the near future. I hope!
All words were written by Mike Weaver (aka me) and remain copyright. If you would like permission to reproduce them in any format, please drop me a line via the contact form on this website. I'm more than happy to help in most cases. As yet there are no musical scores or tabs available... and I may never get around to that sort of thing as I'm not clever enough. You can discover a little bit more about some of the songs on the Notes On My Albums page. If you would like further information, I'd be happy to elaborate if you drop me an email to: [email protected] 
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Here are the words to three of my vintage songs (as in old rather than classic!) from my earliest days as a songwriter.
Alex
We’re all lads from England,
Our fathers stevedores, Some were lost for little cost, In the fourteen-eighteen war, Our sisters wear white ribbons, Tied in bows of hope, Our heads are in the nooses, We wove from desperate rope. We crossed the ceaseless sand seas, And along the River Nile, It brought them life, It brought us death, Washed the blood rain from our eyes, The calls across the city, Brought the faithful to their prayer, Ringing new Egyptian changes, For the allies who were there. Alex, I don’t believe, In your places anymore, Alex, don’t need to look, In your faces anymore. They sent us ratting Rommel, In the menace of the sun, She ripped our hair, And cut our hands, And blistered our backs bare, The wounds were soothed in Alex, Soon in Pompey’s Pillar bars, Drink the old Egyptian potions. And take us to your lair. Alex, I don’t believe, In your places anymore, Alex, don’t need to look, In your faces anymore. She took me to the old town, To a place she knew was there, The bed was straw, The shutters swung, And fanned the restless air, She wore a dress of satin, And grew jasmine in her hair, She showed me more of Alex, And I wished I didn’t care. I woke in early sunlight, To the city’s market hum, The girl had gone, And I was lost, Left waiting for the gun, They sailed us out of Alex, Robbed and raped and done, To the new Salerno beaches, And the faces on the men. Alex, your sweat and wine, Were never ice cold like they said, Alex, you made us rot, You turned us into living dead, Alex, I never want, To see your places, anymore. April 1978 |
Little Lady Lies
She looked up from the table,
In the crowded back room bar, Her eyes said she was able, And willing to go far, She slipped out of the shadows, And downed her advocaat, Staring at my shoulders, As if we’d met before. She whispered to me cooly, That the town was full of bums, With nothing for a young girl, But to wait and see who comes, The High Street, so they call it, Is just a wide place in the road, Where once a heavy wagon, Had spurned and shed its load. But if you come along with me, You’ll never want to go, How do you like your coffee, In the morning? There are fourteen hundred soldiers, In the barracks down the lane, But when you’ve had one Tommy boy, I guess they’re all the same, She said her men all had to be, From towns she’d never seen, To tell her distant stories, Of places where they’d been. She lives out of her pocket, And works hard on a dream, Doing daytimes at the garage, And night times by the seams, So if she gives you feelings, Forget them when you meet. Or you’ll see her in the twilight, On the corner of each street. But if you come along with me, You’ll never want to go, How do you like your coffee, In the morning? And when you’re passing her town, Spare a thought for backroom bars, She’s living for her moments, In other people’s cars, So leave her when you find her, Or you’ll hear this haunting cry, Don’t listen to the whisper, For the little lady lies. December 1978 |
Hey Friend
Hey friend, don’t I know you,
From those many years gone by, You used to live off Keynsham Street, Before the days could fly, You don’t remember me, man? Why, we shared our youth at school, Together, we were cowboys, And broke so many rules Hey girl, don’t you know me? Well ,I kissed you long ago, We saw that epic movie, In our first last picture show, Your looks are light and faded, And your life can tell you why, I used to think you knew me, But can you look me in the eye? Praise them, praise them, praise those days men, We were young and we were good, And knew all the things we should. We are spirits of the past, boys, And the words of the old school song, They stay gently in the mind, boys, We recall them all so wrong, Can you put the names to faces, For the good times which we had? For now, we’ll keep our places, And the memories will stay bad. For the taste of life is bitter, In the mouths of broken men, But the love of life, it’s special, And the flavour comes again, We used to drink together, Till they pulled the shutters down, Our voices, they are but nothing, And the sorrows have been drowned. Praise them, praise them, praise those days men, We were young and we were good, And knew all the things we should. January 1980 
Trying to pretend that I know how an electric organ works! Photo by Steve Jones, Cheltenham, 1980 |
