Tuche & Automaton

Sunday, February 11, 2007

Viva Last Blues

Ballad of Crackling Dee
(a song for Christmas)

Back up the house where the rumblin's comin.
A whole Dee family happily slummin

'Here's Crackling Dee, messin with the fruitcake.'

Yes, hair everywhere: starts in the ears,
Down the back like an ink-blot, catching the beers.

'Here's Crackling Dee, heavy with the Remington.'

Over hands n knuckles n Sterns n Bows.
Just the right kind of static that the Government allows.

'Here's Crackling Dee, with one less finger.'

Watch him at the doorstep, pickin rust out his throat
Strange lad, with arms like a duff billy-goat.

'Here's Crackling Dee, attacked with a pushbike.'

They rattled his skull with the back of the frame,
Spoked an arm, made a hairy leg lame.

'Here's Crackling Dee, face like a taxied stoat.'

He's got Raleighs for arms n a crackin little toe
N one sludged mouth n a bucketful of woe.

'Here's Crackling Dee, best hump the beast.'

A slunk n unconscious T.G. Kindle
Dee jabbed down his eyes on a bamboo spindle.

'Here's Crackling Dee, tossed Tom to the birds!'

A three n a half coma, the boy flipped like a lighted tramp
N tossed to the mainframe, with his legs full of cramp.

'Here's Crackling Dee, dragged to the cemetery.'

Bugger doesn't know it yet but Jesus-God his eyes have failed
Flushed n worn n ready to be nailed.

'Here's Cackling Dee, with his thumbs all stuffed.'

N optics done n nerves a flappin,
Crackling's gone n caught Tom nappin.

'Here's Crackling Dee, with the slasher boots.'

With Tom wrecked, there's Dasher Jones.
Dee'll make sheep-meat from his bones.

'Here's Crackling Dee, picking food from his teeth.'

Crackling is stroking his beard; got that old fixed stare,
His arms are gashed but he don't mind a little air.

'Here's Crackling Dee, smoking bracken after dawn.'

Lookin at the coils of gunge n watching with derision,
Slagger makes a mark on him with surgical precision.

'Here's Crackling Dee, tie the loose arms to the horses.'

Horse n cart n ready-mades, fust and dust and sickle
Heave the Dee across the square, leaving blood a trickle

'Here's Crackling Dee, pulled in two with all this trouble.'

Stiffed n boned n thrown around, blended with the gristle
In the broken stump of old Dragged Dee, a briskly shredded thistle.

'Here's Crackling Dee, gardener to the stars.'

Spread him thickly, spread him thin, garnish land with muscle


Palace Music - Work Hard/Play Hard

A Yousendit Swweettnneessss


At 11:40 AM, Blogger HU-MYN said...

Edgard Varese also led me to a exciting life experience --- the music - do you have any digital to share?


At 12:39 PM, Blogger steve engine said...

LOL! Might have to do a cover version of this....!


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