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Song lyrics about Brixton/Lambeth

editor

hiraethified
I give you the Lambeth Walk:
Lambeth you've never seen,
The skies ain't blue, the grass ain't green.
It hasn't got the Mayfair touch,
But that don't matter very much.
We play the Lambeth way,
Not like you but a bit more gay
And when we have a bit of fun
Oh, Boy.

Anytime you're Lambeth way
Any evening, any day,
You'll find us all doin' the Lambeth walk.

Ev'ry little Lambeth gal
With her little Lambeth pal,
You'll find 'em all doin' the Lambeth walk.

Ev'rything's free and easy,
Do as you darn well pleasey,
Why don't you make your way there,
Go there, stay there,

Once you get down Lambeth way,
Ev'ry evening, ev'ry day,
You'll find yourself doin' the Lambeth walk.
Doin' the Lambeth-
Doin' the Lambeth-
Doin' the Lambeth walk!
And the Monochrome Set's lovely, "I Love Lambeth":
I try to breathe
I try to breathe
But all I get
Is a lung full of fumes
From an old Chevette.
This cold's been hanging around for years

I try to eat.
I try to eat
But all I can buy
Is a piece of tough meat
That's red with the dye
This cold's been hanging around for years

I love Lambeth
With all the dirt on the streets
There's no better place for your feet
If you were a beetle
Or if you were a tsetse fly
This would be heaven

I need some space
I need some space
But in the day
The streets are all crowded
For a long holiday
These kids've been hanging around for years.

And I love Lambeth
With all the poison in the air
There's no better place for your hair
If you were a lizard
Or Telly Savalas
This would be heaven

I need a walk
I need a walk but wherever I go
There's the smell of the putrid
And the feel of a hole
This pain's been hanging around for years

I love Lambeth
With all the mud on its face
For romance there's no better place
If you were a hydra
Or the Bishop of Durham
This would be heaven
 

Minnie_the_Minx

someinenhhanding menbag and me ah bollox
Now in the street there is violence
And a lots of work to be done
No place to hang out our washing
And I can't blame all on the sun, oh no

We gonna rock down to Electric Avenue
And then we'll take it higher
Oh we gonna rock down to Electric Avenue
And then we'll take it higher

Workin' so hard like a soldier
Can't afford a thing on TV
Deep in my heart I'm a warrior
Can't get food for them kid, good God

CHORUS

Oh no...
Oh no...
Oh no...
Oh no...

CHORUS

Who is to blame in one country
Never can get to the one
Dealin' in multiplication
And they still can't feed everyone, oh no

CHORUS

Out in the street...
Out in the street...
Out in the playground...
In the dark side of town...

CHORUS

Rock it in the daytime
Rock it in the night ...
 

JimmyNothing

Brixton born and inbred!
My Grandad used to always sing a folk song at Christmas about the persecution of an Irishman in Brixton back from when he was a kid. I've never heard it since and wish I could remember how it went. All I remember is a tiny bit from the chorus... "Poor Irishman trusted them... justice for the Brixton Three." Wish I could remember more.

And Guns of Brixton by The Clash of course!
 

Minnie_the_Minx

someinenhhanding menbag and me ah bollox
In a dreary Brixton prison
Where an Irish rebel lay
By his side a priest was kneeling
'Ere his soul should pass away
Then he faintly murmered "Father"
As he clasped him by the hand
"Tell me this before I die
Shall my soul pass through Ireland?

Shall my soul pass through old Ireland
Pass through Cork City grand
Shall I see the old cathedral
Where St. Patrick took his stand
Shall I see that little chapel
Where I pledged my heart and hand
Then Father tell me truly
Shall my soul pass through Ireland?

'Twas for loving dear old Ireland
In this prison cell I lie
'Twas for loving dear old Ireland
In this foreign land I'll die
Will you meet my little daughter
Will you make her understand
Then Father tell me truly
Shall my soul pass through Ireland?"

With his heart pure as a lily
And his body sanctified
In that dreary British prison
That brave Irish rebel died
Prayed the priest that wish be granted
As in blessing raised his hand
"Father grant this brave man's prayer
May his soul pass through Ireland"
That's not it obviously, but I came across it and can't say I know it
 

Minnie_the_Minx

someinenhhanding menbag and me ah bollox
and another, The Brixton Busters

Listen, listen, listen, here’s a song for Pearse and Nessan
Known as the Brixton Busters far and wide
Like a bolt right out of heaven they escaped from Brixton prison
The Provos they could not keep inside

It happened on a Sunday, it became an "on-the-run day"
Both lads had been praying on their knees
Sure the warders thought it shocking when the gun came from the stocking
And the lads said, "Hand over the keys"

Now they’re moving, movin, movin, get those police dogs moving
Get those doggies searching far and wide
It wasn’t semtex putty but a pistol in the gutty
That let the lads go out for the ride

Every Branch man in the nation went crazy with frustration
They were ordered to quickly find the trail
When they lost them at the station it cured their constipation
No wonder they are still looking pale

Movin’, movin’, movin’, get those police dogs moving
Get those doggies searching far and wide
It wasn’t semtex putty but a pistol in the gutty
That let the lads go out for the ride

Now England learn your lesson from lads like Pearse and Nessan
And the Volunteers you hold in cells today
Though you beat them and mistreat them you never will defeat them
They’ll be back again to fight another day

Now they’re moving, movin, movin, get those police dogs moving
Get those doggies searching far and wide
Now the ‘guvnor’s calculating the pension that is waiting
He can’t get those lads back inside

Shut the gate, shut the door! Don’t let out anymore!
Make sure there’s nowhere to hide!
Searching high and low! Where the hell did they go?
Provos- they could not keep inside

Shut the gate, shut the door! Don’t let out anymore!
Make sure there’s nowhere to hide!
Searching high and low! Where the hell did they go?
The Provos, they could not keep inside

Movin’, movin’, movin’…
Movin’, movin’, movin’…
Movin’, movin’, movin’…
The Provos they could not keep inside
Movin’, movin’, movin’…
The Provos they could not keep inside
Movin’, movin’, movin’…
The Provos they could not keep inside
Movin’, movin’, movin’…
 

lang rabbie

Je ne regrette les gazebos
Send three and fourpence, we're going to a dance...

Miinnie the Minx said:
In a dreary Brixton prison
Where an Irish rebel lay
Don't get Fenian started :D

Google only give six hits for those lyrics to Shall My Soul Pass Through Old Ireland and ten times that number for variants on:

In[G] a dreary British prison
where an Irish rebel[D] lay
 

Minnie_the_Minx

someinenhhanding menbag and me ah bollox
and another

God, I remember the days when Brixton held Cat A prisoners and when the Irish broke out :D

Who needs lobotomy when we've got the ITV?
Who needs ECT when there's good old BBC?
Switch on the set, light up the screen,
Fantasise and dream about what you might have been,
Who needs controlling when they've got the cathode ray?
They've got your fucking soul, now they'll fuse your brains away.
Mindless fucking morons sit before the set,
Being fed the mindless rubbish they deserve to get.
Can't switch off big brother, they've lost all will to act,
Lost in drab confusion, was it fiction, was it fact?
Another plastic bullet stuns another Irish child,
But no-one's really bothered, no, the telly keeps them mild.
They've lost all sense of feeling to the every hungry glow,
Drained of any substance by the vicious telly blow.
No longer know what's real or ain't, slowly going blind,
They stare into the goggle box while the world goes by, behind.
The Angels are on T.V. tonight, grey puke fucking shit.
The army occupy Ireland, but the boot will never fit.
Was it Coronation Street? Or was it Londonderry?
Oh it doesn't fucking matter, Paul Daniels'll keep us merry.
Yes, I've heard of Bobby Sands, wasn't it Emmerdale Farm?
Yes, that's right, he was kicked by a cow, I hope it didn't do him no harm.
And wasn't the Holocaust terrible, good thing it wasn't for real.
Of course I've heard of H-Block, it's the baccy with man appeal.
Deeper and deeper and deeper, layer upon layer.
Illusion, confusion, is there anyone left who can care?
Yes, the Abbey National cares for you. Nat West, and Securicor.
Well brings out the Branston bren-guns let's spice it up some more.
The Sweeney are cruising Brixton, created another Belfast.
And J.R.'s advising Thatcher on lighting, make up and cast.
A thousand camera lenses point at the people's pain,
As millions of mindless morons watch the action replay again, the action replay again.
Softly, softly, into your life, you're held in it's brilliant glow.
Softly, softly, feeding itself on the you you'll never know.
You're life's reduced to nothing, but an empty media game.
Big Brother ain't watching you mate, you're fucking watching him.

Crass Nineteen Eighty Bore lyrics
 

Pickman's model

every man and every woman is a star
i'll start you off with 'guns of brixton', by the clash, and 'brixton busters', by the irish brigade:
Listen, listen, listen here's a song for Pearse and Nessan
Known as the Brixton Busters far and wide
Like a bolt right out of Heaven, they escaped from Brixton prison
The Provos they could not keep inside.

It happened on a Sunday, it became an 'on-the-run-day'
Both lads had been praying on their knees
Sure the warders thought it shockin when the gun came from the stocking
And the lads said, "Hand over the keys!".

[chorus]
Now they're movin, movin, movin, get those police dogs moving!
Get those doggies searching far and wide
It wasn't Semtex putty but a pistol in the gutty
That let the boys go outside for a ride.

Every branch man in the nation went crazy with frustration
They were ordered to quickly find the trail
When they lost them at the station, it cured their constipation!
No wonder they are still looking pale.

Now England learn your lesson, from lads like Pearse and Nessan
And the volunteers you hold in cells today
Though you beat them and mistreat them, you never will defeat them
They'll be back again to fight another day.

[chorus2]
Now they're movin, movin, movin, get those police dogs moving
Get those doggies searching far and wide
The Doctor's calculating the pension that is waiting
If he can't get those lads back inside.

Shut the gate! Shut the door! Don't let out anymore
Make sure there's nowhere they can hide
Searchig high, searching low, where the Hell did they go?
Provos they will not keep inside.
 

colacubes

Well-Known Member
And God created Brixton - Carter USM

I walked from my baby’s Brixton flat
Into a riot
I thought of maybe turning back
Till things were quiet
When all the buildings to be burned
Had been burned
And all the cars to overturn
Were overturned

Outside the prison they were screen testing the free
Open auditions for closed circuit T.V.
Your baby brother would be there outside the jail
Throwing bottles as the police sirens wailed
And a love song might not be suitable
But you look beautiful tonight

Death and disaster only make me love you more
The morning after the night that went before
When the brains of Brixton with conflicting points of views
Are outside The Ritzy on the local TV news

A love song might not be suitable
But you look beautiful tonight
And if you feel the same way as I feel
Everything will be alright

I was thinking,
Let’s forget about the car
And do some late night drinking
In a late night drinking bar
It isn’t far, well it’s my local anyway
I know the barman
And there’s a small vocal P.A.

Now the insurance man has left you with the news
That your third party fire and theft would be no use
And I know a love song isn’t suitable or right
But you look beautiful, beautiful tonight

And if you feel the same was as I feel
Everything will be alright

Tonight, Big Brother is watching you
And I am watching too
I will watch over you
Like a thunderbolt out of the blue
Something told me it was true
God created me and you
And God created Brixton too
Hallelujah!
Praise the Lord!
Tonight you can rest assured
The Father, Son, The Holy Ghost and I
Will love you more than most
Tonight
 

Pickman's model

every man and every woman is a star
conflict, the ungovernable force

Fuck off you, fuck your violent threats, your
attempts to control the nation. Fuck off you
fucked up racist cunt, understand the situation
Back off you slimy worthless prick, you ain't got
a clue what you're facing! Eat bricks you hed up
bastard shits, scabs; you'll get what you are
creating Who the fuck do you think you're pushing,
'stay in place or get it' I'd think again to save
your skin,'cos if you come to close You'll fucking
regret it, you whine on all the hell you like
Repeat your warnings of plastic bullets, the gas,
the batons, the water cannon The more you oppress
the more we'll resist Riots, there ain't been a
riot, but one's knockin' at your door You've seen
nothing yet but houselheld pets, but you'll feel
the lions claw Proclaiming laws last victory, of
containing rebel shower When the time Is right
you'll get the fight that will totally test your
power Inciting, provoking trouble, that you know
can easilt be beaten To maintain the Image that we
need you, so thus re-confirm your position You
might trick some you scheming scum, but you'll
never get our obedience You can batter, beat us,
even imprison, yet still you'll never ever defeat
us Belfast...Brixton...Toxteth...Totteham...St.
Pauls...Hansworth... Reclaim the streets, reclaim
the towns, reclaim the nation What revolution,
this revolution, we all wanted a peaceful solution
But this institution, that institution, smashed
all hope of getting through to them.
Confrontations, escalating violations of the law
Repercussions of the mass destruction which in the
end is sure to mean Them pumping out the bullets,
their protection from the poor We will win 'cos we
have to, we ain't got nothing to lose no more And
what they lose they undoubtedly will forfeit
forever "They've got the guns, but we've got the
numbers"
 

Maurice Picarda

Actually, might as well flounce.
Any time you're Lambeth way
Any evening, any day
You will find us all
Doing the Lambeth Walk. Oy!

Every little Lambeth gal
With her little Lambeth pal
You will find them all
Doing the Lambeth Walk. Oy!
 

kained&able

Here for the football.
the intro to alabama 3's- woke up this morning mention coldharbour lane and indeed they have an album with coldharbour lane in. Think theres another couple of theres that mentions brixton as well.

electric avenue - eddie grant is named after the road in brixton as well.

misfits- london dungeon said:
They called us walking corpses
Unholy living dead
They had to lock us up
Put us in their british hell

Make sure your face is clean now
Cant have no dirty dead
All the corpses here are clean, boy
All the yanks in british hell

I dont wanna be here in your london dungeon
I dont wanna be here in your british hell
Aint no mystery why Im in misery in hell
Heres hoping youre swell

They called us walking corpses
Unholy living dead
They had to lock us up
Put us in their british hell

I dont wanna be here in your london dungeon
I dont wanna be here in your british hell
Aint no mystery why Im in misery in hell
Heres hoping youre swell

Make sure your face is clean now
Cant have no dirty dead
All the corpses here are clean, boy
All the yanks in british hell

I dont wanna be here in your london dungeon
I dont wanna be here in your british hell
Aint no mystery why Im in misery in hell

Heres hoping youre swell
Heres hoping youre swell
Heres hoping youre swell
Heres hoping youre swell
is apparently about brixton.

Oh and the streets have a song that meantions brixton i thinks its has it come to this.


dave
 

DJWrongspeed

radio eros
Enduser

Enduser's Dubplate12, presumably this is a sampled dancehall track, is he saying 'Brixton' i always thought so perhaps someone can correct me ?
 

Spion

I hear ya
5 nights of bleeding - LKJ

Madness, madness
Madness tight on the heads of the rebels
The bitterness erup's like a heart blas'
Broke glass, ritual of blood an' a-burnin'
Served by a cruelin' fighting
5 nights of horror and of bleeding
Broke glass, cold blades as sharp as the eyes of hate
And the stabbin', it's
War amongs' the rebels
Madness, madness, war

Night number one was in Brixton
Sofrano B sound system
'im was a-beatin' up the riddim with a fire
'im comin' down his reggae reggae wire
It was a sound checkin' down your spinal column
A bad music tearin' up your flesh
An' the rebels dem start a fighting
De youth dem just tun wild, it's
War amongs' the rebels
Madness, madness, war

Night number two down at Sheppard's
Right up Railton road
It was a night name friday when ev'ryone was high on brew or drew
A pound or two worth of Kali
Sound comin' down of the king's music iron
The riddim just bubblin' an' backfirin'
Ragin' an' risin'
When suddenly the music cut -
Steelblade drinkin' blood in darkness, it's
War amongs' the rebels
Madness, madness, war

Night number three, over the river
Right outside the Rainbow
Inside James Brown was screamin soul
Outside the rebels were freezin' cold
Babylonian tyrants descended
Bounced on the brothers who were bold
So with a flick of the wris', a jab and a stab
The song of hate was sounded
The pile of oppression was vomited
And two policemen wounded
Righteous, righteous war

Night number four at the blues dance, abuse dance
Two rooms packed and the pressure pushin' up
Hot, hotheads
Ritual of blood in the blues dance
Broke glass splintering, fire
Axes, blades, brain blas'
Rebellion rushin' down the wrong road
Storm blowin' down the wrong tree
And Leroy bleeds near death on the fourth night
In a blues dance, on a black rebellious night, it's
War amongs' the rebels
Madness, madness, war

Night number five at the Telegraph
Vengeance walk thru de doors
So slow, so smooth
So tight and ripe and -smash!
Broke glass, a bottle finds a head
And the shell of the fire heard -crack!
The victim feels fear
Finds hands, holds knife, finds throat
Oh, the stabbins and the bleedin' and the blood, it's
War amongs' the rebels
Madness, madness, war
 

redsnapper

Vintage Urban
Big Audio Dynamite - The Battle Of All Saints' Road

A couple of years ago down Ladbroke Grove
The Dreads uptight sitting on a treasure trove
A skinny white dude came in and took a chair
He had a black leather jacket and greased back hair

Well they ain`t seen nothing like it down the Mangrove
Plugged his guitar into a flat iron stove
Now all the brothers they began to stare
Hillybilly cat blew `em on their derriere

It`s the booze that picks you up
And throws you against the wall
Sometimes there`s a drought
Can`t get no sense at all

Now they had the grass he had the song
The Rocker and the Ras began to get along
Looking around for something to bang
They all joined in and this is what they sang...

We fired our guns and the coppers kept a coming
There wasn`t quite as many as there was a while ago
We fired once more and they began a running
Over Vauxhall Bridge and Via Pimlico

Cow foot curry herbage and macheté
`57 Chevy in a Rondolet
Red stripe BM a game of dominoes
Zebra serenade the honky`s and negros

Well it ain`t Mozart

Nowadays all quiet on the All Saints Road
Cops and yups come in by the truckload
A condo stands where the grass used to grow
Race attacks filofax and nobody goes

It`s the booze that picks you up
And throws you against the wall
Lost my vallet and my mind at the carnival

Seven Eleven McDonalds and Ho-Jo`s
Gettys` on the jetty watch the river flow
The Lambeth walk`s like 42nd Street
Folks I gotta tell you this town can`t be beat

Wadda dem-dem-dem.......
 
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