Shane MacGowan Famous Quotes
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Something that's obvious to a lot of people but it's never said much on the television or anything, that the architects and planners and whatever in London are inhuman to a really disgusting extent.
Now you'll sing a song of liberty for blacks and Paks and Jocks
And they'll take you from this dump you're in and stick you in a box
Then they'll take you to Cloughprior and shove you in the ground
But you'll stick your head back out and shout We'll have another round!
There is drinking in lots of the songs because there is drinking in life. Drinking stimulates the imagination.
Sometimes I wake up in the morning
The ginger lady by my bed
Covered in a cloak of silence
I hear you talking in my head
If I should fall from grace with God
Where no doctor can relieve me
If I'm buried 'neath the sod
But the angels won't receive me
Let me go, boys
Let me go, boys
Let me go down in the mud
Where rivers all run dry
I can type with me toes
Suck stout through me nose
And where it's gonna end
God only knows
Hear the rebels' voices calling
'I shall not die, though you bury me!'
from 'Aisling
For its stupid to laugh and its useless to bawl
About a rusty tin can and an old hurley ball
But he never threw a fight when the fight was right
So they sent him to the war
You can't hate people unless you love them.
Now the song is nearly over
We may never find out what it means
Still there's a light I hold before me
You're the measure of my dreams
When the cold winds come and find you
Blowing down from the top of the high rise
I'll come and take you back down to Soho
Away from all those madmen's eyes
Billy ran around with a rare old crew
And he knew an Arsenal from Tottenham blue
We'd be a darn sight better off if we knew
Where Billy's bones are resting now
Billy saw a copper and he hit him in the knee
And he took him down from six to five foot three
Then he hit him fair and square in the do-re-mi
That copper won't be having any family
Hey Billy son where are you now?
Don't you know that we need you now?
With a rat-tat-tat and the old kowtow
Where are Billy's bones resting now?
Billy went away with a peace-keeping force
'Cause he liked a bloody good fight, of course
Went away in an old khaki van
To the banks of the River Jordan
Billy saw the Arabs and he had 'em on the run
When he got 'em in the range of his sub-machine gun
Then he had the Israelis in his sights, went a rat-tat-tat
And they ran like shites
Hey Billy son where are you now?
Don't you know that we need you now?
With a rat-tat-tat and the old kowtow
Where are Billy's bones resting now?
One night Billy had a rare old time,
Laughing and singing on the Lebanon line
Came back to camp not looking too pretty
Never even got to see the holy city
Now Billy's out there in the desert sun
And his mother cries when the morning comes
And there's mothers crying all over this world
For their poor dead darling boys and girls
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And as I sit and talk to you I see your face go white
This shadow hanging over me
Is no trick of the light
The spectre on my back will soon be free
The dead have come to claim a debt from thee
Down the dirty old street
The Angel of the East is calling
And with a trembling hand
I open up a can
I can hear a baby bawling
With The Pogues, at least the first three albums I'll stand by completely, yeah? Because I was in artistic control then, yeah? And the last couple of albums I'll stand by anything that's got my name on it, yeah? But I'll stand by anything that is on The Popes' albums, you know? I wouldn't put stuff out that I didn't like. I don't put out bad music. And I can tell the difference. I know that.
A devil moon took me through the alley
Down by the Kardomah and the Centrale
To the mews running through the backstreets
Where the Blacks sell fire and sleep
The devil moon took me out of Soho
Up to Camden where the cold north winds blow
Sucked along by a winter shower
To stand beside your shining tower
Petitions are ridiculous.
So I walked as day was dawning
Where small birds sang and leaves were falling
Where we once watched the row boats landing
On the broad majestic Shannon
When I'm writing a song, it gives me more actual pleasure to hear someone else sing it than do it meself.
Here a tower shining bright
Once stood gleaming in the night
Where now
There's just the rubble in the hole
from White City
Wish that they could walk forever
On the earth alone and fettered
Until they pray for consolation
Until they beg for sweet damnation
Then I'll come and bring them water
Bring them hope, bring them laughter
Raise their hopes both sad and sunken
Slash them up as they lie there drunken
Push them down into the foul mud
Until they choke up on their own blood
Drag them out before their last breath
To take away the mercy of death
Mother's eyes are sparking diamonds
Still the moon shows no light
This rose is withered
May God deliver
The rake at the gates of hell tonight
I'm just following the Irish tradition of songwriting, the Irish way of life, the human way of life. Cram as much pleasure into life, and rail against the pain you have to suffer as a result. Or scream and rant with the pain, and wait for it to be taken away with beautiful pleasure ...
Dehydration
Humiliation
Degradation
Mind castration
And the sky is black
And the one next to you
Keeps thinking that they're having a heart attack.
Desolation
On medication
Nurse nurse nurse
Can't sleep easy
Nurse nurse nurse
Are you fucking with me
ECT fucking did a thing on me
ECT did a job on me
ECT did a job on me
ECT did a job on me.
Pinned Down
Pinned Down.
Oh the torn up ticket stubs
From a hundred thousand mugs
Now washed away with dead dreams in the rain
And the carparks going up
And they're pulling down the pubs
And its just another bloody rainy day
I sat on the floor and watched TV
Thanking Christ for the BBC
A stupid fucking place to be
Down Rain Street
One, two, three, four, turn your poles
Give me a cup of sweet poitin
Madness from the mountains crawling
When I first saw you, my own Aisling
I'm not singing for the future
I'm not dreaming of the past
I'm not talking of the fist time
I never think about the last
I've been a babe magnet for quite a while now.
McCormack and Richard Tauber are singing by the bed
There's a glass of punch below your feet and an angel at your head
There's devils on each side of you with bottles in their hands
You need one more drop of poison and you'll dream of foreign lands
When you pissed yourself in Frankfurt and got syph down in Cologne
And you heard the rattling death trains as you lay there all alone
Frank Ryan brought you whiskey in a brothel in Madrid
And you decked some fucking blackshirt who was cursing all the Yids
At the sick bed of Cuchulainn we'll kneel and say a prayer
And the ghosts are rattling at the door and the Devil's in the chair
And in the Euston tavern you screamed it was your shout
But they wouldn't give you service so you kicked the windows out
They took you out into the street and kicked you in the brains
So you walked back in through a bolted door and did it all again
At the sick bed of Cuchulainn we'll kneel and say a prayer
And the ghosts are rattling at the door and the Devil's in the chair
You remember that foul evening when you heard the banshees howl
There was lousy drunken bastards singing Billy in the Bowl
They took you up to midnight mass and left you in the lurch
So you dropped a button in the plate and spewed up in the church
Now you'll sing a song of liberty for blacks and Paks and Jocks
And they'll take you from this dump you're in and
My dad has no control over who works with me. Me, me and me alone has to take responsibility for anything.
I've been here all the time; I could be putting out as many albums as Costello, y'know what I mean?
Thanks and praises
Thanks to Jesus
I bet on the Bottle of Smoke
I went through hell
And to the races
To bet on the Bottle of Smoke
The day being clear
The sky being bright
He came up on the left
Like a streak of light
Like a drunken fuck
On a Saturday night
Up came the Bottle of Smoke
Twenty fucking five to one
Me gambling days are done
I bet on a horse called the Bottle of Smoke
And my horse won
A hungry sound came across the breeze
So I gave the walls a talking.
What I do is I'm a bandleader, frontman, entertainer.