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Genesis
Genesis


Background information
Origin Godalming, Surrey, England
Genre(s) Rock
Progressive Rock
Pop Rock
Years active 1967—1999
Label(s) Decca Music Group
Virgin Records
Atlantic Records
Atco Records
Rhino Records
Charisma Records
Associated acts Phil Collins
Brand X
Tony Banks
Mike Rutherford
Peter Gabriel
Steve Hackett
Anthony Phillips
GTR
Mike + The Mechanics
Stiltskin
Gordian Knot
Chester Thompson
Website Website
Members
Phil Collins
Tony Banks
Mike Rutherford
Former members
Peter Gabriel
Steve Hackett
Anthony Phillips
John Mayhew
John Silver
Chris Stewart
Ray Wilson



Music World  →  Lyrics  →  G  →  Genesis  →  Albums  →  Selling England By The Pound

Genesis Album


Selling England By The Pound (1973)
1973
1.
Dancing With The Moonlit Knight
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
After The Ordeal
7.
8.
. . .

Dancing With The Moonlit Knight

[No lyrics]

. . .


It's one o'clock and time for lunch - dum dee dum dee dum
When the sun beats down and I lie on the bench
I can always hear them talk

There's always been Ethel:
"Jacob, wake up, you've got to tidy your room now"
And then Mr. Lewis:
"Isn't it time that he was out on his own"
Over the garden wall, two little love birds cuckoo to you
Keep them mowing blades sharp...

I know what I like
And I like what I know
Getting better in your wardrobe
Stepping one beyond your show

Sunday night, Mr. Farmer called, said:
"Listen son, you're wasting time
There's a future for you in the fire-escape trade
Come up to town"
But I remembered a voice from my past:
"Gambling only pays when you're winning"
I had to thank old Miss Mort for schooling a failure
Keep them mowing blades sharp...

I know what I like
And I like what I know
Getting better in your wardrobe
Stepping one beyond your show
I know what I like
And I like what I know
Getting better in your wardrobe
Stepping one beyond your show

When the sun beats down and I lie on the bench
I can always hear them talk
Me, I'm just a lawnmower
You can tell me by the way I walk

. . .


The path is clear, though no eyes can see
The course laid down long before
And so with gods and men, the sheep remain inside their pen
Though many times they've seen the way to leave

He rides majestic, past homes of men
Who care not or gaze with joy
To see reflected there, the trees, the sky, the lily fair
The scene of death is lying just below

The mountains cut off the town from view
Like a cancer growth is removed by skill
Let it be revealed

A waterfall, his madrigal
An inland sea, his symphony

Undinal songs urge the sailors on
'Till lured by the siren's cry...

Now as the river dissolve in sea
So Neptune has claimed another soul
And so with gods and men, the sheep remain inside their pen
Until the shepherd leads his flock away

The sands of time were eroded by
The river of constant change


. . .


Here am I
Who while away the mornings
Since you've gone
Too long have I lain alone
Not knowing which way to turn.

And there you are
Quite sure that you were right
Knowing full well
That I'd be the first one
To go down.

And you'd be the one who was laughing
Except when things weren't going your way
And the lady would say that she'd had enough
Wandering around on her own.

The day you left
Well I think you knew you'd not be back
Well at least it would seem that way
Because you never said goodbye.
But when it comes round to you and me
I'm sure it will work out alright.

And you'd be the one who was laughing
And giving me something I don't need
And you know, I'd always hold you and keep you warm
Oh! more fool me.

But when it comes
Round to you and me
I ask myself
Do I really believe
In your love.
And yes, I'm sure it will work out alright.

. . .


(Taken from a news story concerning two rival gangs fighting
over East-End Protection rights)

Along the Forest Road, there's hundreds of cars - luxury cars.
Each has got its load of convertible bars, cutlery cars - superscars!
For today is the day when they sort it out, sort it out,
'cause they disagree on a gangland boundary.
Yes, they disagree on a gangland boundary.

There's Willy Wright and his boys -
one helluva noise, that's Billy's boys!
With fully-fashioned mugs, that's Little John's thugs,
the Barking Slugs - supersmugs!
For today is the day when they sort it out, sort it out,
these Christian soldiers fight to protect the poor.
East end heroes got to score in...

the Battle of Epping Forest,
it's the Battle of Epping Forest,
right outside your door.
You ain't seen nothing like it.
No, you ain't seen nothing like it,
not since the Civil War.

Coming over the hill are the boys of Bill,
and Johnny's lads stand very still.
With the thumpire's shout, they all start to clout
- there's no guns in this gentleman's bout.
Georgie moves in on the outside left
with a chain flying round his head;
and Harold Demure, from Art Literature,
nips up the nearest tree.
(Here come the cavalry!)

Admidst the battle roar,
accountants keep the score: 10-4.
They've never been alone, after getting a radiophone.
The bluebells are ringing for Sweetmeal Sam, real ham,
handing out bread and jam just like any picnic.

It's 5-4 on William Wright; he made his pile on Derby night.
When Billy was a kid, walking the streets,
the other kids hid - so they did!
Now, after working hard in security trade, he's got it made.
The shops that need aid are those that haven't paid.

"I do my double-show quick!" said Mick the Prick, fresh out the nick.
"I sell cheap holiday. The minute they leave,
then a visit I pay - and does it pay!"
And his friend, Liquid Len by name,
of Wine, Women and Wandsworth fame,
said "I'm breaking the legs of the bastard that got me framded!"

They called me the Reverend when I entered the Church unstained;
my employers have changed but the name has remained.
It all began when I went on a tour,
hoping to find some furniture.
I followed a sign - it said "Beautiful Chest".
It led to a lady who showed me her best.
She was taken by surprise when I quickly closed my eyes.
So she rang the bell, and quick as hell
Bob the Nob came out on his job
to see what the trouble was.
"Louise, is the Reverend hard to please?"
"You're telling me!"
"Perhaps, sir, if it's not too late.
we could interest you in our Staffordshire plate?"
"Oh no, not me, I'm a man of repute."
But the Devil caught hold of my soul and a voice called out "Shoot!"

To save my steeple, I visited people;
for this I'd gone when I met Little John.
His name came, I understood,
when the judge said "You're a robbing hood."
He told me of his strange foundation,
conceived on sight of the Woodstock nation;
he'd had to hide his reputation.
When poor, 'twas salvation from door to door.
But now, with a pin-up guru every week,
it's Love, Peace & Truth Incorporated for all who seek.

He employed me as a karmacanic, with overall charms.
His hands were then fit to receive, receive alms.
That's why we're in

the Battle of Epping Forest,
it's the Battle of Epping Forest,
right outside your door.
We guard your souls for peanuts,
and we guard your shops and houses
for just a little more.

In with a left hook is the Bethnal Green Butcher,
but he's countered on the right by Mick's chain-gang fight,
and Liquid Len, with his smashed bottle men,
is lobbing Bob the Nob across the gob.
With his kissar in a mess, Bob seems under stress,
but Jones the Jug hits Len right in the mug;
and Harold Demure, who's still not quite sure,
fires acorns from out of his sling.
(Here come the cavalry!)

Up, up above the crowd,
inside their Silver Cloud, done proud,
the bold and brazen brass, seen darkly through the glass.
The butler's got jam on his Rolls; Roy doles out the lot,
with tea from a silver pot just like any picnic.

Along the Forest Road, it's the end of the day
and the Clouds roll away.
Each has got its load - they'll come out for the count
at the break-in of day.
When the limos return for their final review, it's all thru'
- all they can see is the morning goo.
"There's no-one left alive - must be draw."
So the Blackcap Barons toss a coin to settle the score.

. . .

After The Ordeal

[No lyrics]

. . .


Home from work our juliet
Clears her morning meal.
She dabs her skin with pretty smells
Concealing to appeal.
I will make my bed,
She said, but turned to go.
Can she be late for her cinema show?

Romeo locks his basement flat,
And scurries up the stair.
With head held high and floral tie,
A weekend millionaire.
I will make my bed
With her tonight, he cries.
Can he fail armed with his chocolate surprise?

Take a little trip back with father tiresias,
Listen to the old one speak of all he has lived through.
I have crossed between the poles, for me there’s no mystery.
Once a man, like the sea I raged,
Once a woman, like the earth I gave.
But there is in fact more earth than sea.

Take a little trip back with father tiresias,
Listen to the old one speak of all he has lived through.
I have crossed between the poles, for me there’s no mystery.
Once a man, like the sea I raged,
Once a woman, like the earth I gave.
But there is in fact more earth than sea.

. . .


I don’t belong here, said old tessa out loud.
Easy, love, there’s the safe way home.
- thankful for her fine fair discount, tess co-operates

Still alone in o-hell-o
- see the deadly nightshade grow

English ribs of beef cut down to 47p lb
Peek freans family assorted from 17 1/2 to 12
Fairy liquid giant - slashed from 20p to 17 1/2
Table jellys at 4p each
Anchor butter down to 11p for a 1/2
Birds eye dairy cream sponge on offer this week.

It’s scrambled eggs.

. . .


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