TAUPIN(1971)
The Greatest Discovery
(Elton John/Bernie Taupin)
This lyric is also included on Elton John (1970)
Peering out of tiny eyes
The grubby hands that gripped the rail
Wiped the window clean of frost
As the morning air laid on the latch
A whistle awakened someone there
Next door to the nursery just down the hall
A strange new sound you never heard before
A strange new sound that makes boys explore
Tread neat so small those little feet
Amid the morning his small heart beats
So much excitement yesterday
That must be rewarded must be displayed
Large hands lift him through the air
Excited eyes contain him there
The eyes of those he loves and knows
But what's this extra bed just here
His puzzled head tipped to one side
Amazement swims in those bright green eyes
Glancing down upon this thing
That make strange sounds, strange sounds that sing
In those silent happy seconds
That surround the sound of this event
A parent smile is made in moments
They have made for you a friend
And all you ever learned from them
Until you grew much older
Did not compare with when they said
This is your brand new brother
This is your brand new brother
This is your brand new brother
Birth
(Bernie Taupin/Caleb Quaye/Davey Johnstone)
Inside of you I have formed my home,
Outside of you I have cast a dome.
A castle you conceived for me,
This place to rest before I see.
All forms of life your band of love
Made me in silent hours,
Preparing I your destiny,
Your life, your time, your pride.
Beauty was beauty then;
For the spell of life had entered in
On a lifeline cord like holy word,
You are mind and I am yours.
For the journey is ending,
Your privileged pain is passing
Like a light in a window
At the end of a tunnel,
Out into the daytime,
From out of the night,
My darkness is over,
My whole world is light.
Flatters (A Beginning)
(Bernie Taupin/Caleb Quaye/Davey Johnstone)
In furrows where the seagulls stole
The seed that was then sown by man,
To a rabbit hutch, and a milkman’s bell
That rang by the gate and sang.
In duffel-coats and dirty socks,
The years had eyes in the sky that watched,
Surveyed them control the mighty machine,
Their scrap-metal island
Once a tractor had been;
Life forms from fields the elders had ploughed,
Where the crown and the kestrel
And the cormorant cried.
Naked and young the flesh that was born
Inside the left window,
Was a clown on the lawn;
And an odyssey was cast,
From the days that went last,
Where the sickle and scythe were as corn;
Hear the thunder of rocks
That shook through the elms,
Our community calls screamed the swarm
Of black hell.
Brothers Together
(Bernie Taupin/Caleb Quaye/Davey Johnstone)
Amid the rocks that shone and sparkled,
Trout of sizes incomparable
Dived and danced in naked wonder
Along the crystal sparkling waters
While we three watched, wide eyes surveying
On warmer days when time was sparing,
For little did we realize how much we loved
The life we shared:
So short a time to build a dream,
But large enough to love that stream.
To watch the chestnut warriors,
Majestic towers of wooden wonder,
Bearing overwhelming gifts for all the
Children of the earth.
The sun burned down their old brown leaves,
And we kicked them and crushed them beneath
Our small feet.
Our first love was that shady glade,
For she always was a wondrous place.
But if only time could then secure my
Satisfied seclusion point,
Then every day I would walk across the old
Stone bridge down a woody path, and stare
Once more – old man and I – deep into the
Chalice of our lives where nature is the
Greatest thing, and the power of beauty
Is an everyday thing.
Rowston Manor
(Bernie Taupin/Caleb Quaye/Davey Johnstone)
You mighty manor built of stone
In the care of a country made to last,
Your lofty flints that laughed aloud
When I came one day to play a part,
Your compassion welled from deep inside,
Windows watched with ancient style,
A rustic monarch building pride
Had a deep effect on the country’s child.
For the spinney rocked with poison bands
Made Robin Hood a worth-while game,
But crying cracked some sturdy plans
And timeless bliss was an endless game.
Near-Gothic was the place we ruled,
And the gargoyles charmed our lawn;
But a sponge cake ate on a windowsill
Marked when the new home was born.
You learn to know that a snowman cries
When the sun breaks out of the clouds;
And always pray there’s a reason why
A butterfly’s born in a shroud.
With Sheba chained tight to a chicken-run,
In small eyes seemed so absurd,
But life for her was a bundle of fun
As if Narnia existed on earth.
The skyline spire peered down with ease,
A cricket-match with our family a-field,
While the silver birch reigned supreme king of trees,
Its secrets and senses unrevealed.
Though cowboys lived and died for fun,
The end was always so far ahead.
For a black cat fell foul to a farmer’s gun
And the world was asleep in bed.
But the exit of the seasons shall fall
Like a dead leaf out of our lives.
We will leave this place with its secret walls
And its tell-tale heart deep inside.
End Of A Day
(Bernie Taupin/Caleb Quaye/Davey Johnstone)
Sweet the smell of burning wood
In coals the furnace formed its face,
Where infant eyes conceived much pleasure,
All dancing in the leaping opera.
Warm and wild the food of night
Takes hold, its charge deep down inside,
Around small frames late moments touch,
And love surrounds your cotton bunch.
Spread farewell on the dawning day,
A kiss that stemmed from every place,
Never to forget who sent him here,
His prayers for them are shed but never unaware.
A mountain conquered in grappling haste,
An island where the secrets stayed
Between the ones who sent him there,
And the pleas to read like a bedside chair.
Oh, Milne, for me a master mind,
Who walked in woods for every smile,
And took you with him every night
To keep your mind a neat concept, a worthy flight.
Small furry one the friend abode,
One eye gone and seams undone,
While fresh hands turn on passages
As eager as the smaller one.
The counterpane and night-light catch
Sides to be tucked in and reassured,
For every second means so much,
Perhaps more in his captain’s tower.
Alone with shadows in his room,
Some tall and short in empty space,
No whisper for his thoughts induce,
When lids seal down and cease to move.
To A Grandfather
(Bernie Taupin/Caleb Quaye/Davey Johnstone/Shawn Phillips)
Willow weep
Large tears of rain,
That fell through autumn skies
And took toll of time in silence,
When even the smallest thing cried
When one of the great living things died.
What more to ask,
When nature is born around you,
And all things growing grow for you,
And all things living live for you.
Some monuments
Time can never replace,
To rebuild an age
That will never be seen again.
But we will never cease to forget,
For as long as the storm of history books
Compels our lives,
There is only who haunts the corridors of time.
Who took two children,
Hand-in-hand down the lengthy lanes of Havrome,
Exploring things so long ago,
Like some misty memory from another land.
All the birds of the air
Flew the flags
And sang the hymns on a funeral day.
You say it was a sad day,
But it was still a day of sun,
A sun-day.
The earth was warm for taking,
For we were giving this to him,
A place to rest and be
In the garden of the cemetery,
Where life makes love to him,
And we will always always remember him.
Solitude
(Bernie Taupin/Caleb Quaye/Davey Johnstone)
A strange obsession filled the stone
That ached in pleasure round this building,
As if deep within its age
A pounding heart was beating faster
Every moment I grew older.
No crevice was such as mine
That stooped beneath the holly hedges,
Kissed in lilac, roped in ivy;
This pleasure-ground of secret beauty,
Where summer’s watchful eyes talked
And passers-by, silently tired, smiled.
Half-humid clouds passed by
Bleating playfully in the acres of the sky;
Sparrows bid a fond farewell
And buffeted among the elms,
The young world laughed and chased the breeze
Down tunnels trimmed in cobweb lace.
For Rory scowled,
Blazened bronze against the morning,
Peering between the rising fern,
And watching as I did
(For we shared what he had) and
The villagers continued by
Upon the crutches of our time.
Conclusion
(Bernie Taupin/Caleb Quaye/Davey Johnstone)
Bracing up to face the wind I see him,
For he is one who will not weep
When his branches are bound together by
The manacles of the morning;
Here alone in pastoral settings,
Rigging the sails of my young palms
And turning towards the whistling barley,
Who plays much sweeter songs among her stalks
Than any classic
Strummed upon the sweetest of guitars.
For I shall grow,
My eyes will know,
Far into changes I must go,
To which in time I wasted once before,
Not knowing that my age was minor to my
Futuristic convictions.
Too early for the sunset,
I was born within four walls and
Neither of my faces
Could see the future far;
But some passages will be cruel,
For time has always been so,
But no day is so bright
Until it is graced by the call of the wild.
Only such a passage small as this
Can bear the brunt of things to come;
For as the days feed time’s command,
I thank all those within whose
Arms I learnt to live and love
Their life for ever and ever
Until the end of time.
When The Heron Wakes
(Bernie Taupin/Caleb Quaye/Davey Johnstone)
When the heron wakes
And sorrow leaves the lady of the river
And summer sings again,
Where wind kissed life and life blessed rain
By wild grass and windows
Where the fisherman was praying.
For I will be as the Valkyrie
With the strains of the war-dogs to leash,
Feeding their skulls in a feast of red sky,
Picking the pieces from all those who sin,
In the balm of a bright life
And a dead day by the sweet knife.
Captain Clegg has nothing on me,
Riding the pickets of wise Walter Small
Who is buried in Shamrock on top of the wolds,
Wise but a fool to walk through a wall
In front of the verger, the windows and all
What a state but the bold community roars.
When the heron wakes
I’ll resurrect the sparrow bones in life,
As once a child took a trowel,
Took a walk amongst the wild flowers,
Fell on his face and lay for hours,
I think the only time
He understands the world about.
Like Summer Tempests
(Bernie Taupin/Caleb Quaye/Davey Johnstone)
And now that it’s all over,
The wings return to the feathered plume;
My mirror can reflect the moon, but somehow
I’m aware I think we arrived too soon.
Then, always then,
Introduced unknown to me
A living breath
To breathe beside still waters,
To crush the flower I never meant to alter.
But then again who knows?
Not I to wear the gospel
When I only wrote my own;
Your chapters shall go unwritten,
For I tried to show where I had grown, but
Now that mirror’s broken, and I don’t
Own you any more.
To hope for something better would be unkind;
The laziness I am goes far,
For I keep in my sake only you are fair,
And the web that was woven
For our peace of mind
Is lost in the rut of a man made kind.
Today’s Hero
(Bernie Taupin/Caleb Quaye/Davey Johnstone/Shawn Phillips)
It was to breathe and give all the way,
With magic mixed in the eyes of the mad;
My human heart will doubtless decay.
Would the church spire topple beneath God’s flag,
Am I really your hero today?
The clear broke into an endless well,
The grey walls sighed from the virgin cries;
Had he said, ‘For your body my body repels –
Have I used you in the sun or the darkness skies?’
She had answered him lately saying –
‘What else and why?’
But it was I who laughed, full of rum,
And kept all my friends in their sleep,
Such noted, a man could be left so undone,
For so many of his women were as sheep, and each
One in his company learned to bleat.
There’s no one on the rooftop now,
While few sit close to the chequers set.
Cheating continued while all still allowed,
At the alms-house there’s better still yet,
For that place and this I have no regret.
I’ve wasted in rain more than is my need,
I’ve cut off my wrists to be kind,
And I watch while my cuts freely bleed,
Flung out is the freedom of mind,
Martyred am I in a year of brown wine.
But I’ve entered where I’ve had to go,
Richer than a man who’s dead;
Paying back the pool-rooms that I owe,
What can I say,
When most of it’s been said?
The school-days and schoolgirls
I knew have fled.
Sisters Of The Cross
(Bernie Taupin/Richard Coff/Diana Lewis)
The old gates are always locked
By the daughter of the keys,
Sad eyes are fixed upon the world
From the balcony.
While the six o’clock procession
Take their hymn-books to the hall,
It’s sad to see them shed a tear
Inside the convent walls.
Red mountains around them
Keep out those who come,
But only birds and wild deer
Share the lives of nuns;
While ladies who in kindness
Burn the knowledge they have found,
Their knowledge lies inside a hole
Buried in the ground.
For the Sisters of the Cross
Seek the shadows they have lost,
In the walls where their lives
Are protected by God.
But the feeling of love
Is somewhere in your bones,
Your body is wasted
When it should have been owned.
The Mother of the mission bells
Has lived here all her life,
She never feels the hands of man
Touch her in the night;
And the canopies that cover her,
So cold and so afraid,
Thinking holy mothers die
Like spinsters in the grave.
To be single in the chapel
Praying knelt down on your knees,
Where corridors are echoing their proud solemnity;
And the candle-light against the glass
Plays shadow-chasing tricks,
As young girls fall, their eyes in tears,
Beside the crucifix.
La Petite Marionette
(Bernie Taupin/Richard Coff)
I once was a marionette
Who danced in plays for children,
Who sang in a box with curtains on it
And cried in a trunk with chains around it.
I lay on an island of castaway ribbons,
With a cat and a dog that howled for light.
The dog’s name was Dakri
And it fed on cold liver,
The cat’s name was a number
And it dies with the winter.
At Christmas shows in village halls
His hands would thrust inside me,
I screamed but no one heard me
My papier-mâché mouth sealed tightly.
I lived but no one believed me,
I loved but no one knew me,
And one day he up and he burned me,
For biting the hand
That maneuvered me.
Ratcatcher
(Bernie Taupin/Shawn Phillips)
I can’t find the light in here,
I forgot to bring my torch and
It’s very dark in there.
I can hear them moving round but
I can’t see where,
I must exterminate, do my job and clear the air.
God, it’s cold as hell in here.
I saw a pair of eyes
From a crack inside the wall,
Evil little points of fire
That make your backbone crawl,
And when you’re down among their kind
You feel so bloody small,
Your throat’s as dry as cardboard
And no one heeds a call.
If God’s a friend of mine let me do my job and go,
I know they’re all around me and they want me on my own.
But I’ll have the last laugh on them when I take
Their corpses home and nail them to my garden shed
Till there’s nothing left but bone.
But if only I could see them then I know that I’d be calm.
But God, how can I manage when I know they’re all around,
How can I lay a bait when all I hear is their sound?
I know, I’ll come back tomorrow when the light-switch can be found.
Yes, let’s go and get some air, my eyes are getting sore.
I seem to see things now that I never saw before,
Grinning skulls and picked white bones upon the cold stone floor –
And Lord have mercy on me –
Someone’s locked the door.
The Visitor
(Bernie Taupin/Shawn Phillips)
She sat in the captain’s old rocking-chair
Lying in wait as the lights went out,
And the lamps in the street dimmed into darkness
As she rocked back and forth in her grandmother’s house.
The seat creaked in the empty room
As her eyes flickered into life,
And they gazed full-length at the falling moon
And they cut through the stars like a knife.
And without full knowing her own tiny head
She walked to the ledge in a trance,
Where she eased off the latch,
Screamed at the sky
And suddenly started to dance.
But none of the dances you may know,
But one of a child possessed,
And as she danced her fingers clenched
And tore at the lace of her dress.
A candle flickered, no one stirred,
A smell of lavender strong,
As she spiraled on in her dance of death
And muttered an unholy song.
For soon her body became so willing
It sank in a heap on the floor
While a shadow floated into the room
And silently pushed to the door.
She sat in the captain’s old rocking-chair
Lying in wait for the sun to come out,
And the morning to bring light to the hills
As she rocked back and forth
In her grandmother’s house.