Thanks for starting the thread anyanka,
There are so many songs that 'read" like poetry - as I've mentioned, Jim Webb's work, Don MacLean's "American Pie", and, of course, one of my all time favorites Leonard Cohen. this one by bob Dylan from "It's All Right Ma" is really one of my very favorites:
"The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proves to warn
That he not busy being born
Is busy dying."
...and so many more....
Elly

I love the way this flows:She comes out of the sun in a silk dress running\Like a watercolour in the rain...
--Al Stewart, "Year of the Cat"

It's funny that I've been looking up songs that I remember as "poetic" only to find they are rather feeble without the music. I tend to like certain lines but not all of the lyrics; but, come to think of it, I'm the same way about most poems.

Here's a line I've fancied for thirty-something years, though I don't know what the heck it means! If there's a bustle in your hedgerow\Don't be alarmed now...
-- Robert Plant

And from the same era: Do you still remember
December's foggy freeze --
when the ice that
clings on to your beard is
screaming agony?
And you snatch your rattling last breaths
with deep-sea diver sounds,
and the flowers bloom like
madness in the spring.
--Mary and Ian Anderson
Heh! Well, maybe you need to be a certain age or under the influence of something to appreciate that one.

Sun streaking cold
An old man wandering lonely
Taking time the only way he knows
Leg hurting bad
As he bends to pick a dog-end
He goes down to the bog and warms his feet
Feeling alone
The Army's up the road
Salvation a la mode and a cup of tea
Aqualung my friend
Don't you start away uneasy
You poor old sod, you see it's only me.

(Continuation from the song above - Aqualung by Jethor Tull).

Yes, I reckon that one counts as poetry. Not a pleasant subject, but poetry none the less. It's quite an interesting rhyming scheme too - lonely/only; dog-end/bog and; road/mode; uneasy/you see it's.

Simon and Garfunkel had a myriad of tunes that I regard as poetic. My favorite is still "The Sound of Silence".

Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while i was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.

In restless dreams i walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
'neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of
A neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence.

And in the naked light i saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one deared
Disturb the sound of silence.

"fools" said i,"you do not know
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that i might teach you,
Take my arms that i might reach you."
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed
In the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning,
In the words that it was forming.
And the signs said, the words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls.
And whisper'd in the sounds of silence.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

Michelle Malone sings sort of bluesy rock music and is local to the area where I live (or used to be). She's one of those that hung out with the Indigo Girls and others like that, but never made it as big. One of my favorites of hers is "Sure Thing" off her Relentless album:

I'm working on a sure thing
Been wearing out my mood ring
Changing hues of dark green jewels
Lead my eyes to the next sunrise
Been dancing on a red wire
Suspended over blue fire
Suspect grows like a nurtured rose
Taste the truth of your misspent youth
And if I'm falling down
Please don't let me know
And if I come undone
I'll try not to let it show
I'm dreaming of a white light
Surrounded by a dark night
Tempt the fate
Of my pearly gate
Bright orange glow
Of my hell below
And if I'm falling down
Please don't let me know
And if I come undone
I'll try not to let it show
I'm working on a sure thing

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

Are there any Dead Can Dance fans here? I regard them as musicians of the literary variety - though totally unclassifiable - along the lines of Loreena McKennitt, but very different stylistically.

Although on the other thread I complained about REM's song Stand, I have always liked the line, "If wishes were trees, the trees would be falling." Along the same lines, I also love a line in Tori Amos' song Strange, "Maybe my wish knew better than I did." Actually I am a huge Tori Amos fan and the majority of her songs are filled with some beautiful cryptic poetic writing.

As for real poetry, I second Sound of Silence. I have always felt that it is the quintessential poem put to music.

For real poetry in songs, look to musical theatre. Rodgers & Hammerstein, Lerner & Loewe, Sondheim, Porter. But the props must go to Noel Coward. His writing is filled with wit and wisdom, they are clever, campy, deliciously mischievous and precise...

I'VE BEEN TO A MARVELLOUS PARTY

You know, quite for no reason
I'm here for the season
And high as a kite -
Living in error
With Maud at Cap Ferret
(Which couldn't be right)...
Everyone's here, and frightfully gay;
Nobody cares what people say,
Though the Riviera
Seems really much queerer
Than Rome at its height!
On Wednesday night
I went to a marvellous party
With Noonoo, and Nada, and Nell -
It was in the fresh air,
And we went as we were,
And we stayed as we were,
(Which was hell)
Poor Grace started singing at midnight,
And she didn't stop singing 'til four -
We knew the excitement was bound to begin
When Laura got blind on Dubonnet and gin
And scratched her veneer with a Cartier pin!
I couldn't have liked it more!
I've been to a marvellous party
We played a wonderful game:
Maureen disappeared
And came back in a beard,
And we all had to guess at her name...
Cecil arrived wearing armour,
Some shells and a black feather boa -
Poor Millicent wore a surrealist comb
Made of bits of mosaic from St. Peter's in Rome,
But the weight was so great that she had to go home!
And I couldn't have liked it more!
I've been to a marvellous party
I must say the fun was intense;
We all had to do
What the people we knew
Might be doing a hundred years hence...
We talked about growing old gracefully,
And Elsie - who's seventy-four -
Said, "A) It's a question of being sincere,
And B) If you're supple you've got nothing to fear" -
Then she swung upside-down from a chandelier!
And I couldn't have liked it more!
It was the most fabulous excitement
I've never seen such a carry-on!
Obviously, it couldn't happen
Anywhere else but on the Riviera...
It was most peculiar -
You know, people's behaviour
Away from Belgravia
Would make you aghast!
So much variety,
Watching society
Scampering past...
You know, if you have any mind at all,
Gibbon's divine "Decline And Fall" -
Well, it sounds pretty flimsy
No more than a whimsy...
By way of contrast,
On Wednesday last
I went to a marvellous party
We didn't sit down 'til ten
You know, young Bobby Carr
Did a stunt at the bar
With a lot of extraordinary...

Anyanka, yes, thanks for this thread. There are so many great song lyrics out there. The Sound of Silence is one of my favorites. Also, almost anything written by Jon Anderson of YES, imho, compares to a lot of fine poetry. It's hard to pick one song, but here's one I like. His lyrics are more to be felt than understood.

Sound and Color
---------------
The spirit moves as I spiral inwardly
I have read about it
Don't ask me questions
How do I turn around on the spot?

Sound can acknowledge and reveal
The very nature of the body line
Color coexists as a meter to the soul

So you don't need an excuse to be happy
Just forgive and forget

They say the mystics they live in the clouds
And they prob'ly love it

They say the mystics they live in the clouds
And they prob'ly love it
Yes they prob'ly love it
Yes they prob'ly love it

Hmmmm....well, I'm a great Yes fan, but I already posted some Yes lyrics on the other thread. The words sound good, but I don't really think they mean anything.

And you and I climb crossing the shapes of the morning.
And you and I reach over the sun for the river.
And you and I climb clearer towards the movement.
And you and I called over valleys of endless seas.

But Martin, that's just it---you can almost understand it. I've always thought of these lyrics as a kind of modern art that is satisfying and says something but no one can quite put their finger on just what.
Of course, the music adds dimensions that enhance and transport the imagination.
Pretentious? But of course. Isn't all prog?

Just a little bit from
Roundabout
(By Jon Anderson & Steve Howe)

In and around the lake
mountains come out of the sky and they stand there
one mile over we'll be there and we'll see you
ten true summers we'll be there and laughing too
twenty-four before my love you'll see I'll be there with you

I will remember you
your silhouette will charge the view
of distance atmosphere
call it morning driving thru the sound and even in the valley

Only this phrase sticks in my memory...
."And the sun comes up like thunder from across the (is it China???)Bay."
Can anyone remember the song and the singer? It was from so long ago...it seems like the time of Johnny Ray or Frankie lane...L.

Laa Laa I think that's Mandalay

Well close enough. Its actually from The Road to Mandalay. Knew Mandalay was somewhere in the vicinity.

Moongirl, thanks for that bit of Coward - enjoyed that.

Here's something from one of my favourite singer/songwriters, Suzanne Vega.
"Blood Sings"

When blood sees blood
Of its own
It sings to see itself again
It sings to hear the voice it's known
It sings to recognize the face

One body split and passed along the line
From the shoulder to the hip
I know these bones as being mine
And the curving of the lip

And my question to you is:
How did this come to pass?
How did this one life fall so far and fast?

Some are lean and some with grace, and some without;
All tell the story that repeats
Of a child who had been left alone at birth
Left to fend and taught to fight

See his eyes and how they start with light
Getting colder as the pictures go
Did he carry his bad luck upon his back?
That bad luck we've all come to know

And my question to you is:
How did this come to pass?
How did this one life fall so far and fast?

When blood sees blood
Of its own
It sings to see itself again

I'm also a Tori Amos fan, as well as an admirer of Loreen McKennit and Suzanne Vega and the Indigo Girls ... the list goes on.

One of my favorite Tori Amos songs is "Winter":

Snow can wait
I forgot my mittens
Wipe my nose
Get my new boots on
I get a little warm in my heart
When I think of winter
I put my hand in my father's glove

I run off
Where the drifts get deeper
Sleeping beauty trips me with a frown
I hear a voice
"Your must learn to stand up for yourself
Cause I can't always be around"

He says
When you gonna make up your mind
When you gonna love you as much as I do
When you gonna make up your mind
Cause things are gonna change so fast
All the white horses are still in bed
I tell you that I'll always want you near
You say that things change my dear

Boys get discovered as winter melts
Flowers competing for the sun
Years go by and I'm here still waiting
Withering where some snowman was

Mirror mirror where's the crystal palace
But I only can see the myself
Skating around the truth who I am
But I know, Dad, the ice is getting thin

When you gonna make up your mind
When you gonna love you as much as I do
When you gonna make up your mind
Cause things are gonna change so fast
All the white horses are still in bed
I tell you that I'll always want you near
You say that things change my dear

Hair is grey
And the fires are burning
So many dreams
On the shelf
You say I wanted you to be proud of me
I always wanted that myself

He says
When you gonna make up your mind
When you gonna love you as much as I do
When you gonna make up your mind
Cause things are gonna change so fast
All the white horses have gone ahead
I tell you that I'll always want you near
You say that things change
My dear

And Loreena McKennitt's "All Soul's Night" ...

Bonfires dot the rolling hills
Figures dance around and around
To drums that pulse out echoes of darkness
Moving to the pagan sound.

Somewhere in a hidden memory
Images float before my eyes
Of fragrant nights of straw and of bonfires
And dancing till the next sunrise.

I can see lights in the distance
Trembling in the dark cloak of night
Candles and lanterns are dancing, dancing
A waltz on All Souls Night.

Figures of cornstalks bend in the shadows
Held up tall as the flames leap high
The green knight holds the holly bush
To mark where the old year passes by.

I can see the lights in the distance
Trembling in the dark cloak of night
Candles and lanterns are dancing, dancing
A waltz on All Souls Night.

But for poetry in songs, I think Springsteen ranks right up there with so many lyrics that it's nearly impossible to choose. Another favorite bit from "Thunder Road":

The screen door slams
Mary's dress waves
Like a vision she dances across the porch
As the radio plays
Roy Orbison singing for the lonely
Hey that's me and I want you only
Don't turn me home again
I just can't face myself alone again

Sounds of silence reminds me of TS. Eliot's Love song of Alfred J. Prufrock:

LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats 5
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question  10
Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

Etc.

I like Brothers in Arms by Dire Straits:

Brothers in Arms

These mist covered mountains
Are a home now for me
But my home is the lowlands
And always will be
Some day youÂll return to
Your valleys and your farms
And youÂll no longer burn
To be brothers in arms

Through these fields of destruction
Baptisms of fire
IÂve watched all your suffering
As the battles raged higher
And though they did hurt me so bad
In the fear and alarm
You did not desert me
My brothers in arms

ThereÂs so many different worlds
So many differents suns
And we have just one world
But we live in different ones

Now the sunÂs gone to hell
And the moonÂs riding high
Let me bid you farewell
Every man has to die
But itÂs written in the starlight
And every line on your palm
WeÂre fools to make war
On our brothers in arms

My younger son listens to Aussie Hiphop, which is quite different to the US version - the songs are more often about social issues or how good the band is, with very few mentions of 'hoes' or pimps or death. A lot of the lines are very clever, but some of them are poetic.

Try these:

'Two days from now, tomorrow will be yesterday
Yet many will remain in the same place anyway' - Delta

'We make you have second thoughts like you're watching the clock' - Trials

I always liked these lyrics by Guadalcanal Diary:

Litany (Life Goes on)
I see life like a mirror
And I see life so much clearer

We move so quickly
Who knows where the time goes
Where does this road lead?
No one knows, no one knows

Listen to the single heart beating
Rhythm for an ever-changing song

I see life with surprise
And I see life, oh, in your eyes

Take all your troubles
Put them in a common file
Light a fire with reason
Watch it rise, watch it rise

Listen to the single voice singing
Lifted in an ever-growing song

I see life without anger

I see life all together
I see life go on forever

Life goes on forever
Life goes on

+*+*+*+*++*+*+*+*++*+*+*+*+

I wish I could post the lyrics to Anna Domino's "Tyranny (of your company)" and "88", but as far as I know the lyrics aren't anywhere on the net. Her music is ethereal and introspective and always puts me in a poetic mood. You can find these two songs on Napster, though.

For some reason, poetic usually makes me think of deeeep and ser-i-ous lyrics, though I don't see why funny and novel can't be poetic, too. I'll post a couple of both kinds of lyrics that have jolted me into listening to the poetry.

First, the serious:
This land today, shall draw its last breath
And take into its ancient depths
This frail reminder of its giant, dreaming self.
While I, with human-hindered eyes
Unequal to the sweeping curve of life,
Stand on this single print of time.

Human wheels spin round and round
While the clock keeps the pace.
Human wheels spin round and round
Help the light to my face.

That time, today, no triumph gains
At this short success of age.
This pale reflection of its brave and
Blundering deed.
For I, descend from this vault,
Now dreams beyond my earthly fault
Knowledge, sure, from the seed.

Human wheels spin round and round
While the clock keeps the pace.
Human wheels spin round and round
Help the light to my face.

This land, today, my tears shall taste
And take into its dark embrace.
This love, who in my beating heart endures,
Assured, by every sun that burns,
The dust to which this flesh shall return.
It is the ancient, dreaming dust of God.

Human wheels spin round and round
While the clock keeps the pace.
Human wheels spin round and round
Help the light to my face.
Human wheels spin round and round
While the clock keeps the pace.
Human wheels spin round and round
Help the light to my face.
-- John Mellencamp, "Human Wheels"

Aye-eee! That gives me the shivers. And in the version with the violin, I actually weep.

And here's some amusing lyrics that just might not be so lighthearted as they seem:
She comes on like a rose
But everybody knows
She'll get you in Dutch
Now you can look
But you better not touch

Poison iv-y-y-y-y,
Poison iv-y-y-y-y
Late at night while you're sleepin'
Poison ivy comes a'creepin'
Arou-ou-ou-ou-ou-ound.

She's pretty as a daisy
But look out man,
She's crazy
She'll really do you in
Now if you let her under your skin.

Poison iv-y-y-y-y
Poison iv-y-y-y-y
Late at night while you're sleepin'
Poison ivy comes a'creepin'
Arou-ou-ou-ou-ou-ound.

Measles make you bumpy
And mumps'll make you lumpy
And chicken pox'll make you jump and twitch
A common cold'll fool ya
And whooping cough'll cool ya
But poison ivy,
Lord'll make you itch!!

You're gonna need an ocean
Of calamine lotion
You'll be scratchin' like a hound
The minute you start to mess around:

Poison iv-y-y-y-y, poison iv-y-y-y-y
Late at night while you're sleepin' poison ivy comes a'creepin'
Arou-ou-ou-ou-ou-ound

Measles make you bumpy
And mumps'll make you lumpy
And chicken pox'll make you jump and twitch
A common cold'll fool ya
And whooping cough'll cool ya
But poison ivy,
Lord'll make you itch!!

You're gonna need an ocean
Of calamine lotion
You'll be scratchin' like a...

Oh, I am so glad that there are others out there who actually listen to the words! Frieda, that Mellencamp lyric is probably the most 'poetic' in so far as it does perfectly well without music.

Reading the Tori Amos reminded me of some of Kate Bush's, but when I looked up the words, it turned out that they don't work at all well on their own...

And here is another favourite funny, featuring some of the most audacious rhyming:

Your Majesty, If you were King, you wouldn't be afraid of anything?
Not nobody, not nohow!
Not even a rhinocerous?
Imposserous!
How about a hippopotamus?
Why, I'd trash him from top to bottomamus!
Supposin' you met an elephant?
I'd wrap him up in cellophant!
What if it were a brontosaurus?
I'd show him who was King of the Forest!
How?
How?
Courage! What makes a King out of a slave?
Courage! What makes the flag on the mast to wave?
Courage! What makes the elephant charge his tusk, in the misty mist or the dusky dusk?
What makes the muskrat guard his musk?
Courage! What makes the sphinx the seventh wonder?
Courage! What makes the dawn come up like thunder?
Courage! What makes the Hottentot so hot? What puts the "ape" in apricot?
What have they got that I ain't got?
Courage!
Then you can say that again!

I have a couple favorite songs that I think work well without the music, The first is Tapestry by Carole King

My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue
An everlasting vision of the ever-changing view
A wondrous, woven magic in bits of blue and gold
A tapestry to feel and see, impossible to hold

Once amid the soft silver sadness in the sky
There came a man of fortune, a drifter passing by
He wore a torn and tattered cloth around his leathered hide
And a coat of many colors, yellow-green on either side

He moved with some uncertainty, as if he didn't know
Just what he was there for, or where he ought to go
Once he reached for something golden hanging from a tree
And his hand came down empty

Soon within my tapestry along the rutted road
He sat down on a river rock and turned into a toad
It seemed that he had fallen into someone's wicked spell
And I wept to see him suffer, though I didn't know him well

As I watched in sorrow, there suddenly appeared
A figure gray and ghostly beneath a flowing beard
In times of deepest darkness, I've seen him dressed in black
Now my tapestry's unraveling - he's come to take me back
He's come to take me back

The second one A Lonely Voice is by a group called October Project, one of my all time favorite groups. This is from their first album.

I keep looking back
A lifetime back
Across the desert
In a desert where no one can explain
You tell me God is dancing in the rain

I can hear the echo
In a maze of words
A lonely voice behind a door
Can you hear me calling
From a world away
A lonely voice behind a door

I keep looking back
Traditions back
Across the centuries
In a century where no one can explain
You tell me God is dancing in the rain

I can hear the echo
In a maze of words
A lonely voice behind a door
Can you hear me calling
From a world away
A lonely voice behind a door

As I stare ahead
A dream ahead
Across the ocean
Cross an ocean where there's nothing to explain
You tell me God is laughing in the rain

I can hear the echo
In a maze of words
A lonely voice behind a door
Can you hear me calling
From a world away
A lonely voice behind a door

LOL, anyanka, your hippopotamus song reminded me of this ditty:I want a hippopotamus for Christmas
Only a hippopotamus will do
Don't want a doll, no dinky Tinker Toy
I want a hippopotamus to play with and enjoy...

I want a hippopotamus for Christmas
Only a hippopotamus will do
No crocodiles, no rhinoceroses
I only like hippopotamuses
And hippopotamuses like me too.
--"I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas"; words and music by John Rox; performed by Gayla Peevey (1953)

Okay, I sort of agree that truly poetic lyrics should be able to stand alone, without music. But, as I read many of the above posted lyrics, if I am at all familiar with the tunes, the words will always remind me of the music and then I can't separate the two in my mind. On the other hand, the lyrics/poems I have never before heard with their accompanying music tend to be unmemorable -- though I notice they incline to serious or metaphysical themes and could be quite profound if I had a frame of reference. Now, I've forgotten a lot of music history that I once learned -- and even more critical analysis of the development of poetry -- but I do recall that the two (music and poetry) have had an intertwining relationship for a long, long time. Back when all history was orally/aurally transmitted, the reciter (can't think of the proper word) found it easier to remember intricate passages if the words were sung -- and his listeners could remember the words and stories better, too, and they in turn could repeat them (not always accurately, of course, but the kernel was pretty solid).

An interesting thing about some of the novelty songs, especially, I think, is how often the words themselves suggest the music and rhythm. I was testing this out with my son. I asked him if he knew the song "Poison Ivy" (see my above post). He said he didn't think he did. So I asked him to read the lyrics out loud. He has no interest in poetry whatsoever and not much interest in music, but he has a lovely speaking voice and he's willing to indulge his mother's whims, sometimes. Anyway, he read it -- at first hesitantly -- but then I noticed he picked up the rhythm (and those of you who know how to analyze poetry can probably tell about meter and rhyme schemes and all that). When I had him go through it again, I noticed it was even more pronounced, and by the third go-through he was almost singing it -- not quite in the same way The Coasters did but there sure was a hint of 'em in the air. That reminds me that songwriting teams often say that it's much easier to create music for already-written words than to try to fit lyrics to already-existing music.

But just as music provides a conveyance for words, I guess words can do the same thing for music. Heh! One of the more pretentious aspects of the 1960s was the seeking of meaning in things that probably didn't have much meaning. Lots of songs became popular because they were thought to be deeeeeep -- and the more...

I've always liked Don McLean's "Vincent" :

Starry, starry night.
Paint your palette blue and grey,
Look out on a summer's day,
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
Shadows on the hills,
Sketch the trees and daffodils,
Catch the breeze and winter chills,
In colors on the snowy linen land.

Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.

Starry, starry night.
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze,
Swirling clouds in violet haze,
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of China blue.
Colors changing hue, morning field of amber grain,
Weathered faces lined in pain,
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.

Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.

For they could not love you,
But still your love was true.
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night,
You took your life, as lovers often do.
But I could have told you, Vincent,
This world was never meant for one
As beautiful as you.

Starry, starry night.
Portraits hung in empty halls,
Frameless head on nameless walls,
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget.
Like the strangers that you've met,
The ragged men in ragged clothes,
The silver thorn of bloody rose,
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.

Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they're not listening still.
Perhaps they never will.

Oooh, Mary, I've always liked "Vincent," too. That's another one that I can't separate words and music in my mind, but if I had never heard the music I think I would still find it affecting because it obviously tells the story of van Gogh and how his work was at first under/unappreciated. I think, even if I didn't know about van Gogh or had never seen his paintings, I would still be able to discern something of what's going on in those lyrics. I would say that's truly poetry.

I like the poetry & rhythm inherent in these words:

East Of Eden
-- Pete Doherty

I've been wandering East of Eden
Been lost, cold, lonesome as a sparrow in the rain
I found myself tumbling to a sinking feeling
When someone said I done gone wrong
Couldn't feel no shame
I'll be leaving town on the very next train
You can wait for me little girl
But I won't be coming this way again
And it ain't nobody's business if I do

There's a slow train rumbling east of a place called Eden
Ah, the wind blowing in proud as the trees upon the plain
And a stranger's voice talked to me of liberty and freedom
Yeah, it seems like he done gone wrong again
And he wears the hat like shame

Well he tasted the fruit of another
And when his Margie, when she discovered
Said she's gonna love him ten times more
Ain't nobody's business if she do

He said "some men born rich, some men born poor
But they're rich in other ways"
Into my heart his wisdom poured

It's no good crumblin, I'm making tracks to live
When I laid my love down in the light
You should've seen all the things my shadow did

The filth and the fury, the fear and the pain
It's all disappearing now
Faster than the smoke from this old train
And it ain't nobody's business if it do
One more time: ain't nobody's business if it do

Glad to see the lyrics to Vincent posted. That's a truly beautiful song. I actually have those lyrics on a bedroom wall right under a copy of the painting Starry Night.

And, at the risk of being booed out of the place, John Denver has some wonderful lyrics (and music). The Eagle and the Hawk comes to mind:
"I am the eagle, I live in high country
In rocky cathedrals that reach to the sky..."

'Tapestry' and 'Vincent' are both great favourites of mine, too, musically and lyrically.
As is 'Come Together'. "Got to be good looking cause he's so hard to see" - I love that line particularly, Frieda. Thanks for your account of getting your son to read Poison Ivy, very interesting!

Talking to my brother about The Who yesterday reminded me that 'Substitute' has brilliantly sharp and acerbic lyrics:

You think we look pretty good together
You think my shoes are made of leather

But I'm a substitute for another guy
I look pretty tall but my heels are high
The simple things you see are all complicated
I look pretty young, but I'm just back-dated, yeah

Substitute your lies for fact
I see right through your plastic mac
I look all white, but my dad was black
My fine looking suit is really made out of sack

I was born with a plastic spoon in my mouth
The north side of my town faced east, and the east was facing south
And now you dare to look me in the eye
Those crocodile tears are what you cry
It's a genuine problem, you won't try
To work it out at all you just pass it by, pass it by

Substitute me for him
Substitute my coke for gin
Substitute you for my mum
At least I'll get my washing done

This thread has jogged my memory about something. Growing up, my sister and I shared a room for a while. Sis was pretty good at embroidery and would take lyrics she thought of as poetry, embroider them onto a nice cut of fabric and hang them on her wall. The two that I remember being up the longest were "Colour My World" by Chicago and "Time in a Bottle" by Jim Croce. In particular, I remember "Colour My World" being on fabric that swirled with the softer shades of orange.

My favorite is Waters of March (Ãguas de Março) by Antonio Carlos Jobim. Even though his native language was Portugese, he was fascinated by English, and all the words in the song are derived from Old English--nothing Latinate. He wrtoe both versions.

A stick, a stone
it's the end of the road,

it's the rest of the stump
it's a little alone

it's a sliver of glass,
it is life,it's the sun,

it is night ,it is death,
it's a trap, it's a gun.

the oak when it blooms,
a fox in the brush,

the knot in the wood,
the song of the thrush.

the wood of the wind,
a cliff, a fall,

a scratch, a lump,
it is nothing at all.

it's the wind blowing free.
it's the end of a slope.

it's a beam, it's a void,
it's a hunch, it's a hope.

and the riverbank talks.
of the water of march

it's the end of the strain,
it's the joy in your heart.

the foot, the ground,
the flesh, the bone,

the beat of the road,
a slingshot stone.

a fish, a flash,
a silvery glow,

a fight, a bet,
the range of the bow.

the bed of the well,
the end of the line,

the dismay in the face,
it's a loss, it's a find.

a spear, a spike,
a point, a nail,

a drip, a drop,
the end of the tale.

a truckload of bricks,
in the soft morning light,

the shot of a gun,
in the dead of the night.

a mile, a must,
a thrust, a bump.

it's a girl, it's a rhyme.
it's the cold, it's the mumps.

the plan of the house,
the body in bed,

the car that got stuck,
it's the mud, it's the mud.

a float, a drift,
a flight, a wing,

ahawk, a quail,
the promise of spring.

and the riverbanks talks.
of the waters of march.

it's the promise of life,
it's the joy in your heart,

a snake, a stick,
it is john, it is joe,

it's a thorn in your hand,
and a cut on your toe.

a point, a grain,
a bee, a bite,

a blink, a buzzard,
the sudden stroke of night.

a pin, a needle,
a sting, a pain,

a snail, a riddle,
a weep, a stain.

a pass in the mountains.
a horse, a mule,

in the distance the shelves.
rode three shadows of blue.

and the riverbank talks
of the promise of life
in your heart, in your heart

a stick, a stone,
the end of the load,

the rest of the stump,
a lonesome road.

a sliver of glass,
a life, the sun,

a night, a death,
the end of the run

and the riverbank talks
of the waters of march

it's the end of all strain
it's the joy in your heart

I've always loved the Paul Simon song words. I hated to see Simon & Garfunkel split up.

Here's "Patterns" by Simon.

The night sets softly
With the hush of falling leaves,
Casting shivering shadows
On the houses through the trees,
And the light from a street lamp
Paints a pattern on my wall,
Like the pieces of a puzzle
Or a child's uneven scrawl.

Up a narrow flight of stairs
In a narrow little room,
As I lie upon my bed
In the early evening gloom.
Impaled upon my wall
My eyes can dimly see
The pattern of my life
And the puzzle that is me.

From the moment of my birth
To the instant of my death,
There are Patterns I must follow
Just as I must breathe each breath.
Like a rat in a maze
The path before me lies,
And the pattern never alters
Until the rat dies.

And the pattern still remains
On the wall where darkness fell,
And it's fitting that it should
For in darkness I must dwell.
Like the color of my skin,
Or the day that I grow old,
My life is made of Patterns
That can scarcely be controlled.

There are so many postings here that make me go, "yes, me too!" - mentions of Paul Simon, Carole King, Jim Croce...

Ideefixe, thank you - I know that song, but can't recall where from. Must have had a cover version of it on some old vinyl record in my teenage years. [Googled it - it was an Art Garfunkel album. Is that why you followed it with a Paul Simon lyric, Woodnymph, or was that a happy strange coincidence?] The repetitive patterns remind me of another favourite, Leonard Cohen's 'Who By Fire' which is based on a prayer from the Yom Kippur liturgy.

And who by fire,
who by water,
who in the sunshine,
who in the night time,
who by high ordeal,
who by common trial,
who in your merry merry month of may,
who by very slow decay
and who shall I say is calling?

And who in her lonely slip,
who by barbiturate,
who in these realms of love,
who by something blunt,
and who by avalanche,
who by powder,
who for his greed,
who for his hunger,
and who shall I say is calling?

And who by brave assent,
who by accident,
who in solitude,
who in this mirror,
who by his lady's command,
who by his own hand,
who in mortal chains,
who in power,
and who shall I say is calling?

I love Tom Lehrer and thought this might be a catchy little number for the US Vice-President.

"I was in no mood to trifle
I took down my trusty rifle
And went out to stalk my prey
What a haul I made that day
I tied them to my fender
And I drove them home somehow
Two game wardens, seven hunters and a cow"

I've enjoyed this thread, and many of the lyrics. Some of them I had forgotten, and reading the words brought echoes of the songs back to my mind once again.

I sometimes like very simple lyrics. Gary Allan sings a poignant song of leavetaking that I really enjoy. The metaphors are simple but clean and clear.

Smoke Rings in the Dark

Well I won't make you tell me
What I've come to understand
You're a certain kind of woman
I'm a different kind of man
I've tried to make you love me
You've tried to find a spark of the flame that burned but
Somehow turned to smoke rings in the dark

The loneliness within me
Takes a heavy toll
'Cause it burns as slow as whiskey through an empty aching soul
And the night is like a dagger
Long and cold and sharp
As I sit here on the front steps
Blowing smoke rings in the dark

I- I- I know I must be going
'Cause loves already gone
And all I'm taking with me are the pieces of my heart
And all I'll leave are smoke rings in the dark

The rain falls where it wants to
The wind blows where it will
Everything on earth goes somewhere
But I swear we're standin' still
So I'm not going to wake you
I'll go easy on your heart
I'll just touch your face and drift away
Like smoke rings in the dark

I- I- I know I must be going
'Cause loves already gone
And all I'm taking with me are the pieces of my heart and
All I'll leave are smoke rings in the dark

I am really enjoying this thread! Yes, I second Tapestry and Vincent (which always makes me cry)

On the funny, ironic side, once again I must turn to Tori Amos. This one is good for the kids:

Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout
Would not take the garbage out
She'd scour the pots and scrap the pans
Candy the yams and spice the hams
And though her daddy would scream and shout
She simply would not take the garbage out
And so it pulled up to the ceilings
Coffee grounds, potato peelings
Brown bananas, rottens peas
Chunks of sour cottage cheese
It filled the can it covered the floor
It cracked the window and blocked the door
With bacon rinds and chicken bones
Drippy ends of ice cream cones
Prunes pits, peach pits, orange peel
Gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal
Pizza crusts and withered greens
Soggy beans and tangerines
Crusts of black burned butter toast
Grisly bits of beefy roast
The garbage rolled on down the hall
It raised the roof, it broke the wall
Greesy napkins, cookie crumbs
Glops of gooey bubble gum
Celaphane from green bologna
Rubbery blubbery macaroni
Peanut butter caked and dry
Curdled milk and crusts of pie
Moldy melons, dried up mustard
Egg shells mixed with lemon custard
Cold french fries and rancid meat
Yellow lumps of cream-of-wheat
At last the garbage reached so high
That finally it touched the sky
All the neighbors moved away
And none of her friends would come to play
And finally Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout
Said "Okay, I'll take the garbage out"
Then of course it was too late
The garbage reached across the state
From New York to the Golden Gate
And there in the garbage she did hate
Poor Sarah met an awful fate
That I cannot right now relate
Because the hour is much to late
The children remember Sarah Stout
And always take the yummy garbage out