T.L. Morrisey

Showing posts with label Van Morrison. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Van Morrison. Show all posts

Saturday, April 25, 2026

"Madame George" by Van Morrison



Down on Cyprus AvenueWith a childlike vision slipping into viewThe click and clacking of the high-heeled shoeFord and Fitzroy, and Madame George
Marching with the soldier boy behindHe's much older now with hat on, drinking wineAnd that smell of sweet perfume comes drifting throughOh, the cool night air like Shalimar
And outside they're making all the stopsThe kids out in the street collecting bottle topsGone for cigarettes and matches in the shopsHappy taking Madame George
Whoa, that's when you fallWhoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa, that's when you fallYeah, that's when you fall
When you fall into a tranceA-sitting on a sofa playing games of chanceWith your folded arms and history books you glanceInto the eyes of Madame George
And you think you found the bagYou're getting weaker and your knees begin to sagIn a corner, playing dominoes in dragThe one and only Madame George
Then from outside the frosty window rapsShe jumps up and says, "Lord, have mercy, I think that it's the cops"And immediately drops everything she gotsDown into the street below
And you know you gotta goOn that train from Dublin up to Sandy RowThrowing pennies at the bridges down belowAnd the rain, hail, sleet, and snow
Say goodbye to Madame GeorgeDry your eye for Madame GeorgeWonder why for Madame GeorgeWo-oh-oh
And as you leave, the room is filled with musicLaughing, music, dancing, music all around the roomAnd all the little boys come around, walking away from it allSo cold
And as you're about to leaveShe jumps up and says, "Hey love, you forgot your glove"And the love that loves, the love that loves, the love that lovesThe love that loves to love, the love that loves to love, to love the gloves
To say goodbye to Madame GeorgeDry your eye for Madame GeorgeWonder why for Madame GeorgeDry your eyes for Madame George
Say goodbyeIn the wind and the rain on the backstreetIn the backstreet, in the backstreetSay goodbye to Madame George
In the backstreet, in the backstreet, in the backstreetWell, well, down home, down home in the backstreet
Gotta go
Say goodbye, goodbye, goodbyeDry your eye, your eye, your eye, your eye, your eyeYour eye, your eye, your eye, your eye, your eyeYour eye, your eye, your eye, your eye, your eyeYour eye, your eye, your eye, your eye, your eyeSay goodbye to Madame GeorgeAnd the love that loves to love, that loves to love, that loves to loveThe love that loves the love to love, the love that loves to loveSay goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye
Say goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, hey, to Madame GeorgeDry your eye for Madame GeorgeWonder why for Madame GeorgeAh, the love that loves, the love that loves to loveThe love that loves to love, the love that loves to loveSay goodbye, goodbyeGet on the trainGet on the train, the train, the train, the train, the train, oh, darlin'This is the train, this is the train, darlin'This is the train
Whoa, say goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbyeGoodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbyeGet on the train, get on the train

Monday, June 9, 2025

"Into The Mystic" by Van Morrison

 

Trout River, 1991


We were born before the windAlso, younger than the sun'Ere the bonnie boat was wonAs we sailed into the mystic
Hark now, hear the sailors crySmell the sea and feel the skyLet your soul and spirit flyInto the mystic
Yeah, when that fog horn blowsI will be coming homeYeah, when that fog horn blowsI wanna hear itI don't have to fear it
And I wanna rock your gypsy soulJust like way back in the days of oldThen magnificently we will floatInto the mystic
When that fog horn blowsYou know I will be coming homeYeah, when that fog horn whistle blowsI gotta hear itI don't have to fear it
And I wanna rock your gypsy soulJust like way back in the days of oldAnd together we will floatInto the mystic
Come on, girl
Too late to stop now

Tuesday, December 19, 2023

"Into the Mystic" by Van Morrison

 

From the Champlain Bridge, 2011




We were born before the windAlso, younger than the sun'Ere the bonnie boat was wonAs we sailed into the mystic
Hark now, hear the sailors crySmell the sea and feel the skyLet your soul and spirit flyInto the mystic
Yeah, when that fog horn blowsI will be coming homeYeah, when that fog horn blowsI wanna hear itI don't have to fear it
And I wanna rock your gypsy soulJust like way back in the days of oldThen magnificently we will floatInto the mystic
When that fog horn blowsYou know I will be coming homeYeah, when that fog horn whistle blowsI gotta hear itI don't have to fear it
And I wanna rock your gypsy soulJust like way back in the days of oldAnd together we will floatInto the mystic
Come on, girl
Too late to stop now

Sunday, December 17, 2023

"Rave on, John Donne" by Van Morrison

 

John Donne, 1572 - 1631


Rave on John Donne, rave on thy Holy fool
Down through the weeks of ages
In the moss borne dark dank pools


Rave on, down through the industrial revolution
Empiricism, atomic and nuclear age
Rave on down through time and space down through the corridors
Rave on words on printed page


Rave on, you left us infinity
And well pressed pages torn to fade
Drive on with wild abandon
Uptempo, frenzied heels


Rave on, Walt Whitman, nose down in wet grass
Rave on fill the senses
On nature's bright green shady path


Rave on Omar Khayyam, Rave on Kahlil Gibran
Oh, what sweet wine we drinketh

The celebration will be held
We will partake the wine and break the Holy bread

Rave on let a man come out of Ireland
Rave on Mr. Yeats,
Rave on down through the Holy Rosey Cross
Rave on down through theosophy, and the Golden Dawn
Rave on through the writing of "A Vision"
Rave on, Rave on, Rave on, Rave on, Rave on, Rave on

Rave on John Donne, rave on thy Holy fool
Down through the weeks of ages
In the moss borne dark dank pools
Rave on, down though the industrial revolution
Empiricism, atomic and nuclear age
Rave on words on printed page

Tuesday, October 24, 2023

"No More Lockdown" by Van Morrison

 

In NYC


No more lockdownNo more government overreachNo more fascist policeDisturbing our peaceNo more taking of our freedomAnd our God-given rightsPretending it's for our safetyWhen it's really to enslaveWho's running our country?Who's running our world?Examine it closelyAnd watch it unfurl
No more lockdownNo more threatsNo more imperial collegeScientists making up crooked factsNo more lockdownNo more pulling the wool over our eyesNo more celebrities telling usTelling us what we're supposed to feelNo more status quoPut your shoulder to the wind
No more lockdownNo more lockdownNo more lockdownNo more lockdown
No more lockdownNo more government overreachNo more fascist policeDisturbing our peaceNo more taking our freedomAnd our God-given rightsPretending it's for our safetyWhen it's really to enslaveWho's running our country?Who's running our world?Examine it closelyAnd watch it unfurl
No more lockdownNo more threatsNo more imperial college scientistsMaking up crooked factsNo more lockdownNo more pulling the wool over our eyesNo more celebrities telling usHow we're supposed to feelNo more status quoGotta put your shoulder to the wind
No more lockdownNo more lockdownNo more lockdownNo more lockdownNo more lockdownNo more lockdown
No more lockdownNo more lockdownNo more lockdownNo more lockdownNo more lockdownNo more lockdownNo more lockdownNo more lockdown

Monday, December 27, 2021

The Leonard Cohen memorial postage stamp

Here are photos of a Canada Post delivery truck advertising new postage stamps in memory of Leonard Cohen. I have never really been a fan of Leonard Cohen's poetry but I do like some of his songs; Leonard Cohen has written some of the best popular music since 1970. But for a great poem made into a song listen to Patrick Kavanaugh's "Raglan Road", sung by Van Morrison, The Chieftains, The Dubliners, and a few others; what a great lyrical, emotionally moving, and loving poem. It takes a great poet to write about love, unrequited love, romantic love, or sexual love. Cohen is a great song writer, along with Paul Simon, Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, and, best of all, Van Morrison. But Cohen is not a great poet, Kavanaugh is a great poet. "Suzanne" is a great song, one of Cohen's better songs, but placed beside Kavanaugh's "Raglan Road", Cohen's "Suzanne is only a good song; it's Patrick Kavanaugh's poem that I keep returning to. Poetry trumps song writing.






Updated on 25 December 2021

Monday, July 12, 2021

In the Garden


We don't have a large backyard, which in some ways is perhaps an advantage. The main disadvantage is that it is quite shady. This photo was taken in early November 2009.



This room was attached to the side of the house... when? No idea. But the house was built around 1950, so probably in the 1960s. At some point, perhaps in 2012, I cut down the lilac bush on the left to about two feet out of exasperation with squirrels jumping from the lilac bush onto the roof and entering the attic by an air vent. The only way to stop squirrels is to not let them enter or to block where they enter, preferably the former. An arborist told me that the lilac bush might die due to my cutting it down; and then, in 2017, I saw a few lilac shoots coming up, it took until 2021 for the lilac to grow about seven or eight feet in height. Photo from July 2011.



Before I began working on the back yard garden I planted pots on the patio. July 2011



Back yard in July 2011



Our ginkgo tree, on our front lawn, July 2011; not sure if it was planted in 2009 or 2010