We'll Meet Again

Vera Lynn (1939)

We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when,
But I know we'll meet again, some sunny day.
Keep smiling through, just like you always do,
'Til the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away.

So will you please say hello to the folks that I know,
Tell them I won't be long.
They'll be happy to know that as you saw me go,
I was singing this song.

We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when,
But I know we'll meet again, some sunny day.
Keep smiling through, just like you always do,
'Til the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away.

The White Cliffs of Dover

Vera Lynn (1942)

There'll be bluebirds over
The white cliffs of Dover,
Tomorrow, just you wait and see.

There'll be love and laughter
And peace ever after,
Tomorrow, when the world is free.

The shepherd will tend his sheep,
The valley will bloom again.
And Jimmy will go to sleep,
In his own little room again.

There'll be bluebirds over
The white cliffs of Dover,
Tomorrow, just you wait and see.

When The Lights Go On Again

Vera Lynn (1942)

When the lights go on again all over the world,
And the boys are home again all over the world,
And rain or snow is all that may fall from the skies above,
A kiss won't mean "goodbye" but "Hello to love".

When the lights go on again all over the world,
And the ships will sail again all over the world,
Then we'll have time for things like wedding rings and free hearts will sing,
When the lights go on again all over the world.

Penny Lane

Paul McCartney & John Lennon (1966)

There is a barber showing photographs
Of every head he's had the pleasure to know,
And all the people that come and go
Stop to say hello.

On the corner is a banker with a motorcar.
The little children laugh at him behind his back
And the banker never wears a "mac"
In the pouring rain,
Very strange.

Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes.
Wet beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit and meanwhile back in Penny Lane…

There is a fireman with an hourglass,
And in his pocket is a portrait of the Queen.
He likes to keep his fire engine clean,
It's clean machine.

Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes,
Full of fish and finger pies,
In summer meanwhile back in Penny Lane…

Behind the shelter in the middle of the roundabout,
A pretty nurse is selling poppies from a tray.
And though she feels as if she's in a play,
She is anyway.

The barber shaves another customer,
We see the banker sitting waiting for a trim.
And then the fireman rushes in
From the pouring rain,
Very strange.

Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes.
Wet beneath the blue suburban skies.
Penny Lane...

© 1966 Northern Songs

Dedicated Follower of Fashion

R.D. Davies (1966)

They seek him here, they seek him there,
His clothes are loud, but never square.
It will make or break him so he's got to buy the best,
'cause he's a dedicated follower of fashion.

And when he does his little rounds,
'Round the boutiques of London Town,
Eagerly pursuing all the latest fads and trends,
'cause he's a dedicated follower of fashion.

Oh yes he is (oh yes he is), oh yes he is (oh yes he is).
He thinks he is a flower to be looked at,
And when he pulls his frilly nylon panties right up tight,
He feels a dedicated follower of fashion.

Oh yes he is (oh yes he is), oh yes he is (oh yes he is).
There's one thing that he loves and that is flattery.
One week he's in polka-dots, the next week he is in stripes.
'cause he's a dedicated follower of fashion.

They seek him here, they seek him there,
In Regent Street and Leicester Square.
Everywhere the Carnabetian army marches on,
Each one a dedicated follower of fashion.

Oh yes he is (oh yes he is), oh yes he is (oh yes he is).
His world is built 'round discoteques and parties.
This pleasure-seeking individual always looks his best
'cause he's a dedicated follower of fashion.

Oh yes he is (oh yes he is), oh yes he is (oh yes he is).
He flits from shop to shop just like a butterfly.
In matters of the cloth he is as fickle as can be,
'cause he's a dedicated follower of fashion.

© 1966 Castle Communications

Shangri-La

R.D. Davies (1969)

Now that you've found your paradise
This is your kingdom to command.
You can go outside and polish your car
Or sit by the fire in your Shangri-la.
Here is your reward for working so hard
Gone are the lavatories in the back yard.
Gone are the days when you dreamed of that car
You just want to sit in your Shangri-la.

Put on your slippers and sit by the fire
You've reached your top and you just can't get any higher.
You're in your place and you know where you are
In your Shangri-la.
Sit back in your old rocking chair
You need not worry, you need not care.
You can't go anywhere
Shangri-la, Shangri-la, Shangri-la

The little man who gets the train
Got a mortgage hanging over his head.
But he's too scared to complain
'cos he's conditioned that way.
Time goes by and he pays off his debts.
Got a TV set and a radio
For seven shillings a week.
Shangri-la, Shangri-la, Shangri-la.

And all the houses in the street have got a name
'cos all the houses in the street they look the same.
Same chimney pots, same little cars, same window panes
The neighbors call to tell you things that you should know.
They say their lines, they drink their tea, and then they go
They tell your business in another Shangri-la.
The gas bills and the water rates, and payments on the car
Too scared to think about how insecure you are.
Life ain't so happy in your little Shangri-la
Shangri-la, Shangri-la la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la

Put on your slippers and sit by the fire
You've reached your top and you just can't get any higher.
You're in your place and you know where you are
In your Shangri-la.
Sit back in your old rocking chair
You need not worry, you need not care.
You can't go anywhere
Shangri-la, Shangri-la, Shangri-la.

© 1969 Castle Communications

London Calling

The Clash (1979)

London calling to the faraway towns,
Now war is declared—and battle come down.
London calling to the underworld,
Come out of the cupboard, all you boys and girls.
London calling, now don't look at us,
All that phoney Beatlemania has bitten the dust.
London calling, see we ain't got no swing,
'cept for the ring of that truncheon thing.

CHORUS
The ice age is coming, the sun is zooming in,
Meltdown expected, the wheat is growing thin,
Engines stop running, but I have no fear,
London is drowning—I live by the river.

London calling to the imitation zone,
Forget it, brother, you can go at it alone.
London calling upon the zombies of death,
Quit holding out—and draw another breath.
London calling—and I don't wanna shout,
But when we were talking, I saw you nodding out.
London calling, see we ain't got no hides,
Except for that one with the yellowy eyes.

CHORUS
The ice age is coming, the sun is zooming in,
Engines stop running and the wheat is growing thin,
A nuclear era, but I have no fear,
London is drowning—I live by the river.

Now get this
London calling, yeah, I was there, too,
An' you know what they said? Well, some of it was true!
London calling at the top of the dial,
After all this, won't you give me a smile?

© 1979 CBS Records

The Guns of Brixton

The Clash (1979)