Fatima Mansions - Bertie's Brochures Lyrics
August the 20th: yes, folks, its another cold, clammy day in england. a large crowd has gathered around the police station. everybody--everybody--wishes to have contact with a certain little irRiter within. not to discuss his works, though the works are known to them; theyve been published in the tabloid papers by the police under the heading barbaric butchers brochures.They want to tear his very head from his body, for what it is alleged he did in the way of mortal damage to two soldiers in a nearby public lavatory. the night draws in. nobody would say a wordHim, except a fool like me [(and his skin)].In rainy ireland in the 50sThere outside a pink farmhouse doorA small bertie, playing at digging trenches,Asks, daddy, whats the blowtorch for?He said, the torch will cut the cars to turn them into sculptureSo I can express what I feel. the college men may laugh,The farmers persecute me, but I do for myself. so should you.Come look at berties brochuresYoull be enchanted, I am sureThe whole worlds in berties brochures:All the wisdom, the smiles of dear friendsThrough freakshow britain, through the eightiesBertie works in labs, though his fathers aims still endureThough only at night does he do his real workLearning, writing his brochures...For he still believes that everyones a poetAnd that all he has to do is to set it downAnd so transform the milkman,The waitress and the gunman into immortal art!!Now theyre laughing at berties brochuresDetectives with crowbars and skewersThey see things in berties brochures:Their own hatred of all other races and their fearDont laugh at berties brochuresHe would not if they were yoursSo what if your enemy is there?Berties an artist, so why should he care?Its the north european peasant experience
