Happy Sunday blogging world! I hope that the sun is shining on you and you have something wonderful planned for your day! As we’ve reached the end of another week, it’s time, once again, for Song Lyric Sunday which is brought to us by Jim Adams, the man who drives us forward with his prompts. This week we are tasked with finding a great song based on Avenue/Boulevard/Drive/Lane/Road/Street, if you love music and want to meet new blogging friends why not play along? Here are some rules to help you:
- Post the lyrics to the song of your choice, whether it fits the theme or not.
- Please try to include the songwriter(s) – it’s a good idea to give credit where credit is due.
- Make sure you also credit the singer/band and if you desire you can provide a link to where you found the lyrics.
- Link to the YouTube video, or pull it into your post so others can listen to the song.
- Ping back to this post will eventually work, as long as you are being patient, but you can also place your link in the comments if you don’t like to wait.
- Read at least one other person’s blog, so we can all share new and fantastic music and create amazing new blogging friends in the process.
- Feel free to suggest future prompts.
- Have fun and enjoy the music.
This was a tricky one for me as, although I could think of songs that fit the prompt, I couldn’t think of one that I really liked but then I remembered this:
Father wears his Sunday best
Mother’s tired, she needs a rest
The kids are playing up downstairs
Sister’s sighing in her sleep (ah)
Brother’s got a date to keep, he can’t hang around
Mother’s tired, she needs a rest
The kids are playing up downstairs
Sister’s sighing in her sleep (ah)
Brother’s got a date to keep, he can’t hang around
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our
Our house, it has a crowd
There’s always something happening
And it’s usually quite loud
Our mum she’s so house-proud
Nothing ever slows her down and a mess is not allowed
There’s always something happening
And it’s usually quite loud
Our mum she’s so house-proud
Nothing ever slows her down and a mess is not allowed
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our (something tells you that you’ve got to move away from it)
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our (something tells you that you’ve got to move away from it)
Father gets up late for work
Mother has to iron his shirt
Then she sends the kids to school
Sees them off with a small kiss (ah)
She’s the one they’re going to miss in lots of ways
Mother has to iron his shirt
Then she sends the kids to school
Sees them off with a small kiss (ah)
She’s the one they’re going to miss in lots of ways
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our
Our house, in the middle of our
I remember way back then when everything was true and when
We would have such a very good time, such a fine time
Such a happy time
And I remember how we’d play, simply waste the day away
Then we’d say nothing would come between us
Two dreamers
We would have such a very good time, such a fine time
Such a happy time
And I remember how we’d play, simply waste the day away
Then we’d say nothing would come between us
Two dreamers
Father wears his Sunday best
Mother’s tired, she needs a rest
The kids are playing up downstairs
Sister’s sighing in her sleep
Brother’s got a date to keep, he can’t hang around
Mother’s tired, she needs a rest
The kids are playing up downstairs
Sister’s sighing in her sleep
Brother’s got a date to keep, he can’t hang around
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our
Our house, was our castle and our keep
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, that was where we used to sleep
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our street, our house
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, that was where we used to sleep
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our street, our house
Songwriters: Carl Smyth / Chris Foreman / Daniel Woodgate / Garaham McPherson / Lee Thompson / Mark Bedford / Michael Barson
I remember when Madness burst on to the popular music scene and it was awesome for those of us who were young teenagers as we’d never hear anything like it. Ska music was completely unknown to us before then and we absolutely lapped it up – The Specials, Bad Manners, The Beat – they were all fantastic to listen to and great to dance to (once we’d got the hang of the moves!). Madness, however, well, they were the best because they were so much fun and had incredible energy. My friends and I all learned the lyrics to Baggy Trousers off by heart and we laughed our socks off at the video – we were at school so it was the perfect fit.
When Our House was released we instantly fell in love with it and, again, learned the lyrics but it became apparent that there was a darker side to Madness which intrigued us still further. The funny video was still there, the upbeat tune, the energy but there was something just a little sad in the lyrics; in the middle of the song the melody changes and we hear the words:
Our house, in the middle of our (something tells you that you’ve got to move away from it)
and then
Mother has to iron his shirt
Then she sends the kids to school
Sees them off with a small kiss (ah)
She’s the one they’re going to miss in lots of ways
Then she sends the kids to school
Sees them off with a small kiss (ah)
She’s the one they’re going to miss in lots of ways
I grew up with Madness and, as is so very rare with bands, they grew up with me. Over time their lyrics became more complex and more thought provoking which fitted in perfectly with our teenage angst. If you have time, check out One Better Day on YouTube, a beautiful song which tells a tale of homeless people in London, I tried to post the video but for some reason it wouldn’t work but here are the lyrics:
Arlington house, address: no fixed abode
An old man in a three-piece suit sits in the road
He stares across the water, he sees right through the lock
But on and up like outstretched hands
His mumbled words, his fumbled words, mock
An old man in a three-piece suit sits in the road
He stares across the water, he sees right through the lock
But on and up like outstretched hands
His mumbled words, his fumbled words, mock
Further down, a photo booth, a million plastic bags
And an old woman filling out a million baggage tags
But when she gets thrown out, three bags at a time
She spies the old chap in the road to share her bags with
She has bags of time
And an old woman filling out a million baggage tags
But when she gets thrown out, three bags at a time
She spies the old chap in the road to share her bags with
She has bags of time
Surrounded by his past, on a short white line
He sits while cars pass either side, takes his time
Trying to remember one better day
A while ago when people stopped to hear him say
He sits while cars pass either side, takes his time
Trying to remember one better day
A while ago when people stopped to hear him say
Walking round you sometimes hear the sunshine
Beating down in time with the rhythm of your shoes
Beating down in time with the rhythm of your shoes
Now she has walked enough through rainy town
She rests her bag against his and sits down
She’s trying to remember one better day
A while ago when people stopped to hear her say
She rests her bag against his and sits down
She’s trying to remember one better day
A while ago when people stopped to hear her say
Walking round you sometimes hear the sunshine
Beating down in time with the rhythm of your shoes
Walking round you sometimes hear the sunshine
Beating down in time with the rhythm of your shoes
The feeling of arriving when you’ve nothing left to lose
Beating down in time with the rhythm of your shoes
Walking round you sometimes hear the sunshine
Beating down in time with the rhythm of your shoes
The feeling of arriving when you’ve nothing left to lose
Walking round you sometimes hear the sunshine
Beating down in time with the rhythm of your shoes
The feeling of arriving when you’ve nothing left to lose
Beating down in time with the rhythm of your shoes
The feeling of arriving when you’ve nothing left to lose
Songwriters: Cathal Joseph Smyth / Christopher John Foreman / Daniel Mark Woodgate / Graham Mcpherson / Lee Jay Thompson / Mark Bedford / Mark William Bedford / Michael Barson
Have a great Sunday one and all!
Lisa x
All About Life 