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Will South

The Petworth People's
Musical Collective

We don't have any records to peddle. You can listen by coming to see us live, we play once a year or more. Last time was at Parent South 60th and Diseworth Beer festival, before that it was at The Linfold Barn Festival no. 4 and the Concert in memory of Peter Dodd in Haslemere Hall. Next time it might be near you.

Members of the PPMC can click here and share sounds that they have created.

The songs of the PPMC

Below I have written down the lyrics of our songs so that you can sing them to yourself. Please invent better melodies but do credit us if you use them, they are all the copyright of The Petworth People's Musical Collective and Will South.

We seem to have enough songs for an album, one day we will record this and I'll make sure it's here first.

In order of creation:

My Ivy plant

The Song

Pasta Rasta

Home

Beaconsfield Model Village

Girls on bicycles

Golonka

I can't help that I'm tall

Waterproof Coat

Worry

Clean your bicycle

My Ivy Plant

Simon is an Ivy plant, with variegated leaves,
He sits upon my shoulder and keeps me at ease.

Sitting on my window sill, he really likes it,
We stay up late at night and end up talking shit.

Simon is an Ivy plant, with variegated leaves,
He sits upon my shoulder and keeps me at ease.

One day me and Simon went out for a little walk
We found a bench to sit on and sat down for a talk.
Simon got real angry for no reason I could see
He started talking loudly and then lashed out at me,
Quickly I retaliated and knocked him on the floor...

[spoken] Poor Simon, he is no more.

Yes Simon was an Ivy plant, with variegated leaves,
He sat upon my shoulder and kept me at ease.

Simon was an Ivy plant, with variegated leaves,
He sat upon my shoulder and kept me at ease.

Simon was an Ivy plant, with variegated leaves...

He sat upon my shoulder, and kept me at ease.

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The Song

I did not think that you'd be free,
To come this evening and dance with me,
So when you said yes I was most impressed,
But kept me face hidden in that jest,
You made whilst my eyes undressed your chest.
And shoulder.

I did not think that you'd agree,
To a moonlit walk and a talk with me.
So when you grabbed my hand,
And dragged me from the band,
My gosh I felt, right grand.
My heart when boom bang bang bang BANG.

You'd think maybe I'd get tired inside,
After all these years of tears and joy,
But I just feel like a little boy,
When I give my girl a whirl like a spinning top.
When I catch her from that spin she throws a grin,
That knocks me on the floor
And out of the door.

I did not think that you would shed
Your clothes right off and climb into bed.
With you getting groovy, under the duvet,
Perhaps tomorrow we could just watch a film or something?
I like to take it slowly you see,
Kick right back and take it easy,
Its not you,
Its me.

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Pasta Rasta

Its the sensation of all the nations, unites brothers underneath one flag,
Like people it comes in all shapes and sizes, all weights and types and prices.

To cook it there is just one way, to cook it there is just one way,
To cook it there is just one way my friend, listen up to what I've got to say

Fill a big pan with lots of fresh water,
Add much more salt than you think you oughta,
Bring to the boil, add a little oil,
And now wait.

Add your pasta man!

Now don't slaughter it by mixing like cement or mortar
Treat it like your daughter and when its sorta,
Soft but with bite and it sticks to the wall,
Tip in a colinder

Or sieve man!

Your at the end of your toil as an Italian master,
Just stick to the method and don't go any faster,

You're a pasta rasta!

[jam]

If you're from Londan or maybe Milan
Or from the Carribean your a pasta man.

If you're from Tajikistan or and American,
Or a Nigerian you can have pasta man.

If you ain't got no allergy,
And you ain't a gluten free,
Then come with me and have some tea,
And we'll have pasta man!

If you're from Londan or maybe Milan
Or from the Carribean your a pasta man.

If you're an Argentinian or from England,
Or a Slovakian you can have pasta man.

If you're a Muslim man you can have pasta man,
If you're a Hindu man you can have pasta man,
If you're a Christian you can have pasta man,
If you're a Buddhist man you can have pasta man,
If you're a Rastafarian you can have pasta man,
And even if you ain't got no religian,
Come and have pasta man

With me!

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Home

There's rain coming down,
Its falling so slow,
Its hanging as a veil in the air.
But my feet don't care,
That its grey upstairs,
They just keep on walking down below.

Walking on the mirror of the pavement,
The pavement to the park,
My Hi-tec squash in enslavement,
As we're walking until its dark

When the lights come on,
And the people come out,
Underneath the florescent glow,
And the bar gets busy,
In the red lit room,
Where yes means no.

And I'm walking away when its not my scene,
I'm finding some other place to go.
There not my friends when I follow them,
And they take me where I don't want to go.

[interlude]

Now I've found my home
In a crowded room,
Where everyone's a smile on their face,
And the stereo speakers,
Are strapped to the floor,
And the beat does battle with the bass.

And my sternum shakes and makes my feet move,
Moving on the damp sticky floor,
Moving with careless abandon,
Until the night bus at quarter past four.

When the sun comes up and breaks the night,
Hitting the tower tops first,
Reflecting back and making me feel right,
As I remember that I don't have to work

Walking under the moon along the blue black street,
With colour creeping into the sky,
I know who I am and who I want to be,
Just looking and not living a lie.

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Beaconsfield Model Village

Don't you think that from far away all these things look much better,
Don't you think that from far away all these things, look, better.

The buddleia growing up through the cracks in the pavement,
The totally illogical traffic light arrangement,
The shopping trolley,
Abandoned in the street.

The Bicycle locked to the lamp post,
Missing its seat, its wheels and its seat post,
The traffic cones,
Abandoned in the street.

Don't you think that from far away all these things look much better,
Don't you think that from far away all these things, look, better.

From this great distance, you can't see the miscreants,
The wreck or the ruin or the rubbish strewn around.
From this great distance you can't see the miscreants,
The wreck or the ruin or the chewing gum on the ground.

You can't see those scowling faces, those cocaine traces,
Lurking in the public loos.
The Biro and marker decoration is not degradation, its information,
In this smaller nation of town planning inspiration.

Don't you think that from far away all these things look much better,
Don't you think that from far away all those people, look, better.

And now I am a super human giant,
Striding defiant down these petite streets,
In this miniature village, this miniature town.

Miniature village, miniature town.

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Girls on Bikes

Girls on bikes are rather pretty
That's my general rule of thumb
Those girls with their hair tied back with a ribbon
Effortlessly peddling along.

Those girls, on bikes, are hot.
Those girls, on bikes, are hot.

Now I don't mean jumping on a bicycle
Will take your rating from nought to ten,
I'm not trying to say that if you jump on a bicycle
You're going to start pulling loads of men.

I'm just trying to say that those girls cycling to the pub
In short skirts and heels not giving a shit,
I'm just trying to say that in the words of Mike Skinner
Those girls are, well fit.

Now some might find this sexist
And I apologise if it offends you I do,
But I don't get pissed when you go on about fire men
Everyone's entitled to a point of view and I think

Girls, on bikes, are hot
Girls, on bicycles, are above averagely attractive.

So next time you see a girl riding a bicycle
Please remember what I've said,
Perhaps you could stop her and take down her number,
And let her no I'm interested.
I'm interested.

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Give me a Golonka

You've got a conscience, you wear it on your sleeve,
You constantly remind me, the price of eating meat.
Its a drain upon our resources, a weight upon our World,
The responsibility of our conscious selves, its not a tasty chicken...
Its a bird.

But have you been to Poland, and tried to live off cabbage?
It really tastes quite nasty there, its not just an old English adage.
Here's one for you vegetarians in Poland that I saw,
Here's one for you guys, the ones with the glassy eyes in the capital,
Warsaw.

Give me a Golonka, give me a Golonka,
Give me a Golonka, give me a Golonka,
Give me a Golonka, give me a Golonka,
Give me a Golonka, give me a Golonka any day.

When you've had a pint of Zywiec, to pre-warm and wet your neck,
You can say it was all for a bet, before you give in.
Stomach is evacuated, entirely preparated,
Ready for those saturated, fats to begin.

Oh, give me a Golonka, give me a Golonka,
Give me a Golonka, give me a Golonka.
Give me a Golonka, give me a Golonka,
Give me a Golonka, give me a Golonka any day.

Now despite what it may seem, contrary to what you expect,
With your points of view I totally agree, you command my total respect.
To your doubters I shout to show my support, I shout till they've had enough,
You vegetarians are very tough, (or would be if eaten).

You veg-e-tarians, you veg-e-tarians,
You veg-e-tarians, you vegetarians,
You may be able to withstand bacon, or even beef Casoulet,
But when they offer you that fatty pork knuckle, this is what you'll say, OI!

Give me a Golonka, give me a Golonka,
Give me a Golonka, give me a Golonka.
Give me a Golonka, give me a Golonka,
Give me a Golonka, give me a Golonka any day.

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I can't help that I'm tall

I can't help that I'm tall, I can't help that I'm tall,
I can't help that you're smaller than me.
I can't help the fact, that you're right at the back,
I can't help the fact you can't see.

I'm not going to squat or crouch, does it look like I've the thighs of a Dinosaur? I'm not going to move aside, into someone else's view who'll be angry with me too, as then there'll be bloody Two of you. Kicking me in the back of the knee, moving forward into territory that's obviously belonging to Me.

I can't help that I'm tall, I can't help that I'm tall,
I can't help that you're smaller than me.
I can't help the fact, that you're right at the back,
I can't help the fact you can't see.

Is this a personal vendetta, Is it because I'm a ginger too? On top of being very slightly above average height, blocking your line of site. Look mate I'm not here for a fight, I'm here in appreciation of this musical phenomenon, so surely there's a chance that we can get on again, despite the severe difference in our height.

I can't help that I'm tall, I can't help that I'm tall,
I can't help that you're smaller than me.
I can't help the fact, that you're right at the back,
I can't help the fact you can't see.

Try getting here early,
And camping up front,
So your view isn't obscured,
By some massive tall

I can't help that I'm tall, I can't help that I'm tall,
I can't help that you're smaller than me.
I can't help the fact, that you're right at the back,
I can't help the fact you can't see.

Hang on a minute,
I think I've got the answer, I've got the answer,
I'm going to put a periscope on the back of my jumper, I'm going to stitch a periscope to the back of my jumper, so when you look into the back of my jumper you won't see the back of my jumper, you'll look into the back of my jumper and see a view that's pretty good, you'll look into the back of my jumper and out of the top of my hood.

I can help that I'm tall, I can help that I'm tall,
I can help that I'm taller than you,
I can help the fact that you're right at the back,
I can help you get a bloody good view too.

Look into the back of my jumper, out of the top of my hood.
Look into the back of my jumper, out of the top of my hood.
Look into the back of my jumper, out of the top of my hood.
Straight at the man in front of me.

He can't help that he's tall, he can't help that he's tall,
He can't help that he's taller than me.
He can't help the fact that we're right at the back,
He can't help the fact we can't see.

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Waterproof Coat

Dressed as though,
She could climb K2,
Even though we know,
She's just going to the shops.

And look over there,
A man who could be a sailor,
Because of what he wears,
But he's not, he's also going to the shops.

In his cagoule, his waterproof coat.
Technical, breathable, eminently fashionable, waterproof coat.
Yes technical and breathable, totally capable of staying dry,
Even with 10m of water pressure falling from the sky.

Arm pit zips, a better feature than a lovely pair of,
Feet still walking, in a lovely pair of,
Whoa! What's this?
Inappropriate shoes.

In her cagoule, her waterproof coat.
Technical, breathable, eminently fashionable, waterproof coat.
Entirely comfortable being ushered from the door of Sam's car Oh,
Totally comfortable climbing the slopes of Kilimanjaro.

He quite likes that,
High heels and a cloche hat,
Hidden under her hood,
He didn't think she would.

In their Gore-tex fabric,
Things happen quite quick,
And before we know it,
They're unzipped.

She's unzipped, he's unzipped, they're unzipped.
She's unzipped, he's unzipped, they're unzipped.

In their cagoule, their waterproof coat.
Technical, breathable, eminently fashionable, waterproof coat.
Oh waterproof coat, waterproof coat.

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Worry

You get to twenty three, sixty six, or forty,
Realise that things are potentially boring,
Boring in the sense that you thought that when you grew up,
You'd grow up to see sense, and finally sort things.

You went to college, or maybe you didn't,
You studied abroad or are in the same village,
You've hundreds of friends, or just one friend,
But one things damn sure you'll be there till the end.
You thought you'd grow up to be those people you aspire to,
You thought you'd grow up to be those people you aspire to,
You thought you'd grow up to be those people you aspire to,
But as you've got older, they've come down to be like you.

And there's far less fact in the World,
And everything you thought was magic,
Was a trick.

Now you're looking at other people wondering how they can cope,
Cope with the amazing array of things they complete,
Complete as you are left standing there to hope,
That something will inspire you to become that much speedier,
That something will drag you away from social media,
And you'll become prolific in your chosen direction.

And everything you started,
Has an end.

Then you worry that you don't do enough,
Worry other people are doing better stuff,
The exotic the new, the different to what you do,
As they look back longing, to be just like you.

You worry that you don't do enough,
Worry other people are doing better stuff,
The exotic the new, the different to what you do,
As they look back longing, to be just like you.

You worry that you don't do enough,
Worry other people are doing better stuff,
The exotic the new, the different to what you do,
As they look back longing, to be just like you.

[To end]

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Clean your bicycle

When will you clean up your bicycle?
Find the time to remove the grime from the chainset and the frame.

When will you show some care?
Find a salubriant lubricant,
And ease the strain on your chain with some oil,
Ease the strain on your chain with some oil,
Ease the strain on your chain with some oil,

And then there was the man who thought he,
Had oiled his chain and was fine.
But it snapped up a hill, and he had to walk home,
BECAUSE HE USED WD40.

When will you realise,
That your negligence in maintenance is accelerating wear and tear.

The stones and the oil combining,
to make a teflon based coarse grinding paste,
That's eating the links on your chain,
It's eating the links on your chain,
It's eating the links on your chain.

She also thought she was fine,
Both her tyres looked OK,
But she got a puncture with no apparent cause.
BECAUSE SHE USED THE WRONG PSI.

You don't need a new bicycle, you don't need a new bike,
Don't buy a new bicycle, even if you see one you really like,
YOU DON'T NEED A NEW BIKE.

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