Complete Works

  • Casablanca Moon (P.Blegvad/A.Moore)
  • Me And Parvati (P.Blegvad/A.Moore)
  • Michelangelo (P.Blegvad/A.Moore)
  • The Drum (P.Blegvad/A.Moore)
  • A Little Something (P.Blegvad)
  • Some Questions About Hats (P.Blegvad/A.Moore)
  • A Worm Is At Work (P.Blegvad/A.Moore)
  • Bad Alchemy (P.Blegvad/J.Greaves)
  • Europa (P.Blegvad/A.Moore)
  • Riding Tigers (P.Blegvad)
  • Apes In Capes (A.Moore)
  • Strayed (P.Blegvad)
  • Giants (P.Blegvad/A.Moore)
  • War (P.Blegvad/A.Moore)

    Words by Peter Blegvad, Music by Anthony Moore

    He used to wear fedoras but now he sports a fez
    There's cabalistic innuendoes in everything he sez
    Sucking on a cigarette, picking up a thread
    Underneath the Casablanca Moon

    He lurks behind a paper in the shadow of a mosque
    He can't count all the continents he's crossed
    Trailing party members, leavin' footprints in the frost
    Underneath the Acnalbasac Noom

    His cover was broken
    Somewhere in Hoboken
    The Man said his case was lost
    He was sent
    To the Orient
    A double-agent double-crossed

    There's a nicotine stain on his moustache
    The pieces of his puzzle just don't join
    People in high places want to stamp his many faces
    On a Trans-Caucasian coin

    He'd better watch his step
    'Cause sooner of later
    They'll find his headless body in a ventilator

    Lines of sweat like tinsel start to smart his eyes
    Neuroses seeps like water through the cracks in his disguise
    Underneath the Casablanca Moon

    Yesterday he finally lost his mind
    The walls fell in, he saw mankind
    Standing before him raising their hand
    In a significant gesture he didn't understand

    His cover was broken
    Somewhere in Hoboken
    The Man said his case was lost
    He was sent
    To the Orient
    A double-agent double-crossed

    Words by Peter Blegvad, Music by Anthony Moore

    Me and Parvati
    In Paris, France
    Surrounded by musicians
    Dressing to dance
    On the tomb
    Of aquisitions
    Where bloomed
    Our positions

    Scattered like scars
    On the skin of the stars
    Needing a celebration
    We entered a bar
    The conversation
    Centered on

    She dropped a tear
    For the frozen beer
    In the forstes of upper
    Thailand (tigerland)

    Out on the street
    The fragrance of paste
    Lingered on her fingers
    The forms she traced
    Blushed to feel their
    Unfamiliar blood

    She made her name
    On the exit lane
    Of the famous Stellar Highways (hideaways)

    Out on the street
    Sobbing with lust
    I hoped for a banquet
    She denied me a crush
    I blushed to taste such unfamiliar blood

    Words by Peter Blegvad, Music by Anthony Moore

    Lying back to paint upon the ceiling...
    No, he never uses black - just the colours of his feelings
    He delineates saints on a sepia ground,
    His tamper like his paints is albumen bound
    Work and toil, well he ain't no dilettante
    he conceives in oil and vatican chianti
    The rumour's out, his hobby is dissection,
    and there ain't no doubt he knows the body to perfection
    Fourteen lines, that's what makes a sonnet
    it even rhymes - Buonarroti's working on it
    Through the streets, stricken by the urchins,
    Wrapped in sheets, round the town he's lurching
    Lurching to the church, heavy with a vision,
    Continuing his search though they come with their derision.
    All his works, you just gotta see 'em -
    Ask the clerks at your neighborhood museum
    Pope's on the phone, calling Buonarroti
    But he's not home, he's gone a little potty
    He's off again, waving paints and brushes -
    Round the bend, to wind up in the rushes

    Words by Peter Blegvad, Music by Anthony Moore

    Get in line, keep in time with the Drum
    And don't forget you're nothing yet but water
    Are you coming to or coming from
    the understanding that I'm handing it to you?
    Or is that a job you don't dare do?
    Hey, my sweet patootie, that's a letter for you
    (you'll find it on the shelf)
    - Though it was posted in Calcutta
    I know it's just another that you've written to yourself
    We watched a distant drummer flashing
    on the beat in all his parrot fashions

    Get in line keep in time with the Drum
    - Don't forget we're nothing yet but water
    Don't move your feet until the next beat comes -
    One of the laws says pause between
    Though I would hate to mak th game seem mean
    Hey my pretty flower can you guess where I've been?
    Can you guess at all?
    I've been to your rooms and learned
    you have all the mirrors hurned against the wall
    I've watched a different drummer flashing
    on the beat in all his Parrot Fashions.

    Listen now to the sound of the Drum -
    And don't forget we're nothing yet but water
    It won't be pleasant when the present time is done
    testing nightly 'neath a sprightly summer moon
    your spirit like a jelly in a spoon
    Hey ma jolie fleur there's a cat in the room
    And it's not the type you're used to
    Though I think I led it to the sink
    and tried to make it drink
    it refused to.

    Words and Music
    by Peter Blegvad

    Here's a little something for all you lovers
    Snuggle deep down inside your covers
    Make yourselves at home and I'll sing you a song about love

    It can start with just a chance encounter
    He doesn't know a single thing about her
    A casual thread and look out, it led to love

    It takes too long to see what it takes two to love for it's soon to be
    And you could easily forget to get upset and set it free

    Sitting in the window at a table alone
    Watching dancers circle to a saxophone
    They get up to go now they know it's love

    From the tip of Alaska to the edge of Spain in every long and latitude
    You'll find it's the same put one and one together and you're not to blame
    If it's love

    Words by Peter Blegvad, Music by Anthony Moore

    Can one wear uncanny hats?
    Can one weather hats? Can
    one wear feather hats?
    Concentrate on irate hats
    Radiate from hats. When
    sated, vacate hats.
    Doors of open water
    elicit ooh & ahhing. Can
    the wet attract a hat?
    Can hats favour fire? Can
    a hat aspire to higher things?
    Can one pit hats against
    vicious things?
    liquorice fish with wings?
    Can one dismiss hats as
    simple things?
    vapid things?
    scant, evanescent things?

    Words by Peter Blegvad, Music by Anthony Moore

    Holding forth
    on a topic of no worth,
    a pissy myth about
    birth of War
    & as for those "Hats" -
    they're a bore,
    not amusing anymore.
    Dare I ask myself what
    it's for?
    A worm is at work
    in the core
    No no no no no no no
    Stop that cynical line!
    Mind, cease your spinning
    & unwind!
    At stage right -
    Good counsel dressed
    all in white;
    Temptation, black as night,
    stage left, (& I've a hunch
    his hooves are cleft!)
    Between 'em am I, bereft.
    Like tempter's hoof
    my mind is cleft,
    divided I fall, nothing's

    Words by Peter Blegvad, Music by John Greaves

    I dream Hermaphrodite & I sit up
    all night our eyes on the horizon
    of a wobbling bowl.
    Heads in hands we ponder dregs
    the bowl contains
    a liquid's left putrescence
    after being drained.
    (What we feel we have to solve
    is why the dregs have not dissolved)
    When I wake I wonder what it means;
    am I bad alchemy? It seems
    I image Self unmixed, a risk,
    in a dish for drinking
    Fluid with a strongly stinking
    sediment - is that what it meant?
    Am I hermaphrodite?
    Neither one nor quite the other?
    (What we feel we have to solve
    is why the dregs have not dissolved)

    Words by Peter Blegvad, Music by Anthony Moore

    Europa opens weary eyes;
    all her pretty cities
    levelled lie.
    Sweet continent, courage,
    don't cry.
    The occidental Accident,
    concerning Reason's acts
    of treason, has short
    to Hell what Heaven sent.
    [Centered on playthings,
    turning round toys,
    our shaman drank duck's
    blood & drove a Rolls Royce
    We entered the circle,
    a map was described,
    we recognized Europe!
    We broke down & cried]

    She cannot call her myths
    her own;
    lupine nipples squirted
    infant Rome,
    but Reason turned
    the Beast to stone [Stone,
    when struck, released
    a spirit.
    From a spire spirit sang :
    "A vitamin glimpsed
    in a mirror might exorcise
    Europe's dilemma"]

    Europe let me thank thee
    for these -
    Minds unravelled travels:
    'twas sweet to picnic
    'neath the trees

    Words and Music
    by Peter Blegvad

    We're not well, dear. Toll the bell, dear.
    As our lives dissolve we revolve
    Lonely & uninvolved.
    Pencil thin, we're near done in, we're
    masticating maize. An empty gaze,
    sitting like that for days.
    Try as we may, calendars
    are scattered, furnaces go cold,
    wardrobes flap in tatters, you & I grow old.

    Words and Music
    by Anthony Moore

    Harken child by life beguiled,
    it's said that some come unsung,
    sorry, no song for some,
    sing-song's ham-strung.
    Seasoned with lies, hardboiled
    but still calling all of the tunes
    he's donned his garb,
    the costume of a buffoon - we rise
    to applaud his disguise.

    Tho miles of smiles will greet
    your wiles, it's said that
    some come unsung, sorry,
    no song for some,
    sing sad song sung.
    If lady luck remain unstruck
    or run amok aah!
    What can he do? Shunned,
    he's sure to come unstuck

    Wrapped in white silk,
    antelope's milk for soothing
    his eyes. Apes traipse in capes,
    it is unfortunate to see them
    rise to applaud one's disguise.

    Words and Music
    by Peter Blegvad

    All my dismembered, half-remembered yesterdays,
    snowing sour rays,
    interfere with clearly being here today.
    I'm sorry to say
    I think I've strayed.
    She said "say it - go aheard & at a planet bay it,
    bay - it's the same today
    as any other day".
    I've gone astray.
    I confess it, why should I repress it?
    Unless it's wrestled through
    it grows on you,
    when you've strayed.
    Gone into hiding, can't abide the latest tidings
    from the tribe. It's reported hopes are thwarted,
    nothing of the wonderful survives.
    Its resurrection is the purpose of our lives,
    but who can rise?
    How thick the lids lie on my eyes...

    Words by Peter Blegvad, Music by Anthony Moore

    She says she has known moments
    when an outer bright & varied
    world appears.
    "Spots of time" in which inflected
    perception of a sudden clears.
    Mindful of time she repairs
    to her room at the top of the stairs.
    Pestered by Giants who bend
    to her window with a will to win
    her hand & turn her head,
    she slipped out of her bed
    in dread of what her Father said:
    "Giants exist to deceive,
    They retreat if the're clearly perceived".

    Words by Peter Blegvad, Music by Anthony Moore

    [invocation] Tell of the birth
    Tell how war appeared on earth

    Thunder and herbs
    conjugated sacred verbs
    musicians with gongs
    fertilized an egg with song
    Asleep in the sphere
    her fetus was a knot of fear
    she butted with her horn
    split an egg and war was born
    A miracle of hate
    she banged her spoon against her plate

    Upon this spoon her motto
    wonderfully designed:
    "violence completes the partial mind"

    Stacking the bones
    on the empty aerodrome
    tinted turtle green
    she haunts the slender submarine
    she shakes her gory locks
    over the deserted docks

    Come follow me
    out of dark obsurity
    Follow my torch
    pilgrims at the double march
    through meadows and seas
    abattoirs and libraries
    The pilgrims increase
    boasting they are led by peace
    They gut huts with gusto
    pillage villages with verve
    War does what she has to
    people get what they deserve