Death Remembrance Poems

Photo from http://www.desbrady.co.uk/

Daniel Brown

Death remembrance poems are commonly searched for but not well provided so I've dug out these sad words I wrote about an orphan's remembrance of an old man who took an interest in him and influenced him to the goodDaniel Brown was a dear old manSome would say just an 'also ran'He wore a dirty mac and an old flat capAnd I never knew him take a bathHe was a special friend of mineI was young - he was out of timeI was drifting off the railsHe put me back in line

Nearly blind, but he could seeThat an orphan boy like meNeeds a hand, not life that's plannedBy societyMr Dan was just in timeTo save me from a life of crimePerhaps, it's fate but now I'm straightAny credit's his not mine

Middle Eight

Life had scribbled on his faceLife had worn his body downNot a pretty sight to seeBut Daniel Brown meant all the world to me

I can see his wrinkled browWhen I left, I regret it nowAll he needed desperatelyWas some companyHe wasn't much the world would sayHe was all alone when he passed awayNo one noticed, no one criedDaniel Brown, why did you have to die?

Jon Bratton copyright 1975

You have the tunes, I supply you with the words. Only when the completed song is published and earns royalties, or any other monetary return, will appropriate royalties, per the industry standard, become payable to me, the copyright owner Jon Bratton

My Old Battered Suitcase

Photo borrowed, without so much as a 'by your leave', from Sam Houston's blog http://bookchase.blogspot.com/2007_07_01_archive.html It's about books, not travel and I couldn't fail to not recommend it less. I'm hoping I just recommended it, for I do

Just follow this link to the fun. is a link I found on that blog

Last night I hit townNot a gentle sightJust then I saw you, in the fading lightAnd now it seems I've always been here holding youAnd I wonder if this is the real one?I wonder if this is the big time ?I wonder if I can break with the past ?And this timeCan I make it last ?

No time in one placeTo watch it declineNo time with one face to watch it grow linesAnd now I think I'll stick around to watch them grow oldAnd I wonder if this is the real one ?I wonder if this is the big time ?I wonder if I can break with the past ?And this timeCan I make it last ?

Middle Eight

The same old dilemmaShould I go, should I stay ?I don't know just what it isThat keeps driving me awayPerhaps I am searchingFor what I don't knowIs this panic now ending ?Or just running slow ?

This town, why this town ?Why don't I pass through ?But this town is different, the difference is youWill my old battered suitcase take five or take root ?And I wonder if this is the real one ?I wonder if this is the big time ?I wonder if I can break with the past ?And this timeCan I make it last ?

Jon Bratton copyright 1976

You have the tunes, I supply you with the words. Only when the completed song is published and earns royalties, or any other monetary return, will appropriate royalties, per the industry standard, become payable to me, the copyright owner Jon Bratton

British Six Million Dollar Man

The title role of The Six Million Dollar Man was Steve Austin played by Lee Majors and was on TV from about 1974 for a good few years.I'm going back over 30 years to 1977, the year of the Queen's Silver Jubilee, when, I recall, I was playing golf in a 4 ball (with neighbours I had met at our street party) and, between shots, I was composing, in my head, the following piece about Britain's answer to Steve Austin.

When I'm fully wound, I can hear the soundOf a pin make a crater in the sandAnd twenty miles away I can safely sayThere's a sparrow coming down to landMy costume's red, white and blueI'm British through and throughI'm a clockwork SupermanWhen my rocket crashed, they fixed me upNo expense, they said, was sparedI cost £2,000, including spare keyI can jump twenty feet in the airI come with guaranteeAnd it's plain to seeI'm a clockwork Superman

Middle Eight

Bio-clockwork, tick tock, Two Grand ManThat's what I amDoing what I canNo job is too tough for meFor the Queen (God bless her)And the Countryyyy

If I 'm talking slow, you're sure to knowMy clockwork's winding downWind me up but please take careWhere you put the keeeeeeeyBut don't overwindOr you'll findI'm a clockwork.......clockwork.....clockwork.....clockwork.....

clockwork.....

We lost the match and my partner blamed me...he said I wasn't concentrating!

Song Lyrics for your Tune

Technicolor Massacre

In a suburban basement flatA wicked deed (was) performedA sadist left a tom catBeaten and deformedClubbed him half to deathAnd children watched, with delight,Cruel and bitter scenesDelighted at the fightingAnd the horrifying screamsIs this a sign of our timesIs this to be our fateAnd acceptance of such violenceCould we be too late?But it's ending now'That's all folks' the caption readsIt will be over soonAnother technicolor massacreOn a cat and mouse cartoon

Free Song Lyrics for your Tune

Clip Art from http://clipart-for-free.blogspot.com/2008_05_01_archive.html

My Phoenix, Bird on High

She rose from the ashes of a broken pastAnd crashed into my lifeShe was strictly 'bed me down with no strings attached'She took me without a fightThen she flew away with her tail of flameAnd I love that girl but I don't know her nameShe disappeared in the night skyMy phoenix, bird on high

Bird on highWhen you reach the skyI wonder what's going through your mindBird on highIf I crawled in your brainI wonder what chaos I'd find

She was immune, she'd been hurt beforeNow she couldn't settle downShe never turned her back on an open doorHer feet rarely touched the groundI wonder girl, will you returnTo share my bed and will I ever learnWhat becomes of you in the night skyMy phoenix, bird on high

Jon Bratton copyright 1973

You have the tunes, I supply you with the words. Only when the completed song is published and earns royalties, or any other monetary return, will appropriate royalties, per the industry standard, become payable to me, the copyright owner Jon Bratton

Country Boy

The song lyrics I am publishing have lain in a drawer unread for 35 years and reading them now they do seem dated. When you read something that you wrote that long ago you become a third party to yourself. Anyway, here goes

Walking in the city down a busy streetMy stomach wondering when I'm going to eatI haven't had a shave, I've got dirty clothesThe plackard man says I should "Eat at Joes"I've got nothing to lose if I give it a tryTomorrow he'll be telling me "The End is Nigh"

ChorusCountry Boy-it's lonely in the cityCountry Boy-I don't need your pityIt seems like a lifetime since I came to seekMy fortune in the city....God, it was only last week!

I came across some guys from a downtown sectWho said "go away", well, words to that effectIt wasn't me who threw the empty bottle of wineI tried to tell the cop from Precinct 49You'll be taken from this place the judgeman saidAnd hung by the neck until you're dead

Chorus

The folks back home will be talking nowAbout the boy who wandered from the ploughTo my father in the bar, saying "Now there Tam"While my mother cries into her homemade jamThe footsteps in the yard are such hollow soundsTo this country boy who wandered way out of bounds

Jon Bratton copyright 1973

You have the tunes, I supply you with the words. Only when the completed song is published and earns royalties, or any other monetary return, will appropriate royalties, per the industry standard, become payable to me, the copyright owner Jon Bratton

Daddy

This was the second song lyrics I wrote

Daddy, what was it really likeWhen we lived on EarthI never knew, how could I?It happened before my birthDid they really have riversAnd mountain streams so coolCould children really play outsideWhen they came home from schoolChorus

What made them do it DaddyCause it doesn't seem quite rightThat men with all those marvellous thingsShould argue and fightWhat made them do it DaddyWas it greed or hate or fearThat made them destroy all thatAnd forced us to live up here

Daddy if you were PresidentWhy could you not see senseWhy sacrifice those childrens' livesFor missiles and defenceWhy did you pull the leverAnd scatter all the crowdsAnd cover all God's given Earth

With deadly mushroom clouds

Jon Bratton copyright 1973

You have the tunes, I supply you with the words. Only when the completed song is published and earns royalties, or any other monetary return, will appropriate royalties, per the industry standard, become payable to me, the copyright owner Jon Bratton

Loving Don't Come Free

Here’s the lyrics to a song written in 1973

Loving Don’t Come Free

Under the neon street lights

When the sun’s gone down

Look at the faces of all the people

Walking round the town

One of them is my girl

The girl I left behind

Like a needle in a haystack

I guess I‘ll never find

I looked in all the places

Where we used to go

Drinkin’ heavy at our table

Hoping that she’d show

Feeling kinda lonely

Needed company

Took a walk down to the district

Where the loving don’t come free

Riding on a fast train

That was outward bound

Now there’s nothing going for me

Back in that old town

Where my search has ended

With the face I see

Under street lights in the district

Where the loving don’t come free

Jon Bratton copyright 1973

You have the tunes, I supply you with the words. Only when the completed song is published and earns royalties, or any other monetary return, will appropriate royalties, per the industry standard, become payable to me, the copyright owner Jon Bratton

Trading

This was penned by me in 1973

Scraped her out of the gutterGroomed and dressed her niceLaunched her as a SuperstarBut who would pay the price?Displayed her in the windowWhere people come to buyAnd the people get a bargainBut the price she pays is highParaded in the marketWeighed upon the scalesShe is worth her weight in goldHave you seen the record sales?Her body is an itemTo be sold just like a whore’sFor 10% and a pound of fleshThey lick their lips for moreMiddle EightTrading her life for anotherOn the market stallsTaken for a ride up highWho’ll save her if she fallsTrading the moon on the back porchFor a penthouse and bright lightsBut who is in her entourageFriends or parasites?But come the final curtainAnd people don’t want moreShe is labelled up as shop soiledIn a discount storeOr dumped back in the gutterAnd left to limp back homeThey are smiling as they scurryBack underneath a stone

And wasn’t I an angry young man? I suppose some of it still rings true today but the “they” nowadays is Simon Cowell who has become mega rich by discovering and promoting talent but is hardly a parasite living under a stone….unless you have a different view?

Jon Bratton copyright 1973You have the tunes, I supply you with the words. Only when the completed song is published and earns royalties, or any other monetary return, will appropriate royalties, per the industry standard, become payable to me, the copyright owner Jon Bratton

Mr President

Here's some song lyrics I wrote influenced by the Nixon/Watergate scandal in 1974 but it's really about the most powerful man in the World being subservient to the most powerful democracy in the World

Mr President

Don't threaten me you creepsI'm on the outsideAs creator I'm above your goddam lawI've bugged you all but don't you dare to bug meI'm Mr Big-you'll only lose for sureOh minions, don't point your ink stained fingersEverything I did was for the goodI'm really Mr Nice...smile for the camerasIt's just that I'm a man misunderstood

My tapes will only tell youWhat I want them toAs mentor, I know what is good for youI grimmaced and you fools thought I was smilingI lied and you mistook it for the truthThe World, you know, is full of trouble makersThe Commy must be killed before he runsI'm really Mr Peace...ful of intentionsI've ended wars before with my big guns

Middle eight

Who's sown the seeds of disillusion?Who's thrown the dream into confusion?And who?Who's wreaking havoc in my town?Who's blown the gaff?They'll have to change the staffNow the people know what happens when the blinds come down

Don't take me onYou'll only suffer two foldThe farmer boy has left the plough behindYou're not man enough for me..you live in darknessDon't you know what farmers do to mice that's blindHave you seen my interviews in all the papers?The fools who put me down now pay my wayI'm really Mr Rich...man in retirementDid you catch my TV show yesterday?

Jon Bratton copyright 1975

You have the tunes, I supply you with the words. When the completed song is published and earns royalties, or any other monetary return, will appropriate royalties, per the industry standard, become payable to me, the copyright owner Jon Bratton

The Real Architect

Although the lyrics were inspired by the building of the Byker Wall, in every repect the sentiments, while reflecting a very bad period in the 60's for social housing, did not reflect the Byker Wall project itself nor the architect Ralph ErskineThe fact that I saw houses still occupied with what seemed like another monstrosity rising up adjacently reflected Ralph Erskine's socialist values...he kept the whole community together.. values instilled in him by his father who did not have a big estate but being a Presbyterian minister lived in a modest church house .Currently, 2008 the Byker Wall, loved by the tenants, is having a facelift...new bits of plastic and bitumastic...to extend its very successful life

The Architect

Having told you last time that comic verse is what I do best the first rhyming stuff I produced was a batch of song lyrics.In 1973 Jack, a friend who played guitar in a group had written a tune and wanted lyrics to it. I didn't have the tune in my head then so I wrote lyrics with a view to Jack writing a tune around my lyrics. I'd write lyrics to his tune once I knew it... which I subsequently did..altho' I don't think Jack liked thoseI was working for Northumberland County Council based in Newcastle upon Tyne and was in Byker where the old terraced houses were still occupied but rising up nearby was a huge concrete pile which became the Byker Wall. ( The picture above is not of Byker..it merely illustrates the ...the new moon Wi'the auld moon in her arm)

Here's the lyricsThe Architect

Rows and rows of terraced housesNo one here ever grousesThey don't mind their sooty fluesThey don't mind the outside loos"Slums, decayed with neglect"So says the architectThey're just slums, he'll pull them downThey don’t want their two-up, two-downFlats in blocks of fourBlocks with one front doorWith walls of plastic glassAnd lawns of concrete grassHis birth was pre-destined fateHis father had a big estateAnd he may have been a perfect foolBut he went to public schoolWhere he was taught to decideWhere the people should resideThey’re just slums etcHis mansion is Edwardian styleHis garden stretches half a mileHis wife wears a mink furAnd she is a CouncillorIn chamber walls of wood veneerShe helps to further his careerThey’re just slums etcDoes he like coloured plasticConcrete and bitumastic?Would he swap his silk and laceTo live in a placeThat he says with all his pompIt's what the people really wantThey’re just slums etcNow, the Council all applaudThey've won a Civic Trust AwardNo more pop-in neighbours, passers-byJust concrete walkways in the skyWho cares if the rents have soared?Who cares if the bairns are bored?***

The Byker Wall was awarded a Civic Trust Award ..so was I prophetic or what?In 1974 T Dan Smith the leader of the Council in the 1960's was tried and found guilty of accepting bribes from architect John Poulson. Many blocks of flats and walkways in the sky were pulled down because they were social failures, vandalised, riddled with condensation etc. never part of the original lyrics, I subsequently added the followingThe plastic faded, the work was shoddyAnd now, you can't find anybodyNot from the Council, nor the folks round hereThat thought them flats were a good ideaThey've all var nye disappearedWith huge Ratepayers' debts, still unclearedThey've got their houses back, no sooty fluesWith centrally heated inside loosWhen I think of all that condensationThey got no money, but the compensationIs that the Architect that screwed this townWas still banged up... when the flats came downJon Bratton copyright 1973-1993

So tunesters, if you've written a great tune, but you can't write the words you're come to the right place. These song lyrics and others in subsequent postings are free for you to use for your own tunesAll these until now unpublished lyrics are free to use with your music until royalties, or money is derived in any way from the song, become payable. Use the comments facility on each blog to say which lyrics you are using and leave your contact detailsYou compose the music and use my free lyrics to complete your song and when the song earns any income you need to share the royalties appropriately, per industry standardsAll lyrics remain the property of the copyright holder Jon Bratton.