Marty Gull: Chris Port Blog #57: Marty Gull Complete Libretto

© Chris Port, 2010, martygull.co.uk.

Songs

1. The Ballad of Tippi Marsh

2. Never Mind

3. Foolish Teacher!

4. The Unteachable Star

5. Thank Music For Silly Girls!

6. I Don’t Know How To Teach Her

7. Judy Garland

8. Katie The Devil

9. The Teacher’s Song

10. Well Start A Rumour

11. You’ve Got To Kick A Teacher Or Two

12. Send In The Spies

13. How To Stifle A Writer

14. The Old Southside

15. There’s No Business Like Big Business

16. Over A Chip Shop

17. Showtime For Nazis

18. Education’s Pointless

19. The House of the Architects

20. Hate Destroys Everything

21. Madness

22. Don’t Lie To Me Cavatina

23. See You Next Tuesday

24. Chick Argot Tango
25. Marty Gull

Marty Gull Song #1. The Ballad of Tippi Marsh

Every actress

gets that black dress

but the mattress

finds a stain.

Could she care less?

Let the stars bless.

All good starlets

hide a shame.

Tippi Marsh spent

all that talent

on a spotlight

on herself.

How it haunts her

in the twilight.

Twenty-five and

on the shelf.

Little Tippi

loved the circus

and she juggled

school and night.

Here a pole dance.

There a small chance.

Then she’s smuggled

out of sight.

Someone’s crying

in a bedsit.

We hear footsteps

up the stair.

Now she’s lying

in a torn dress

on a mattress,

urine-bare.

You remember

summer’s star role?

In Chicago

you had sass.

Now December

and the cars blow,

past the window,

yellow gas.

Take that black dress,

take that mattress,

block the cracks less

gas escape.

Turn the white taps

on your white face.

Let the stars bless

your escape.

When they found her

in that bedsit

she was naked

with no note.

Let me find her

in her childhood.

Let me find her

while there’s hope.

Let me find her

in her childhood.

Let me find her

while there’s hope.

Marty Gull Song #2. Never Mind

(The National Drinking Song: Worst Vessel)

Never mind

Whoever said life was kind?

A beer down the pub

Will soon cheer you up

A pint with a mate and a plate full of grub

Never mind

The deaf, the dumb and the blind

Who litter the street

With bitter defeat

Will soon disappear when there’s nothing to eat

Never mind

To look for love is to find

That girl from next door

Fourteen and cock-sure

For twenty quid now is an old knackered whore

Never mind

The government rob you blind

Though men hate their job

A foreign sweatshop

Will soon undercut if you don’t shut your gob

Never mind

What cancer’s ever benign?

That eats at the soul

And leaves a black hole

We had a fat chance now we’re down to the bone

Never mind

The rope that hangs you is kind

When all hope is gone

A good cockney song

A knot at me throat and the choke won’t take long

Never mind

Our corpses you’ll never find

Each man tops himself

For sake of his health

Of course some insurance ensures future wealth

Never mind

In far-off climes you will find

There’s no happiness

But this is the next

Best thing that there is. Never mind!

Marty Gull Song #3. Foolish Teacher!

The moment you walked in the school

I could tell you were a

fool with a weakness

a mental illness

So trusting, oh so kind

The bullies were lining up

to thrust the knife from behind

So let me get right to the crutch

I don’t drop a dork

in shit like other sluts

Foolish teacher!

Teach this little girl ‘bout stuff

Wouldn't you like to do mus-ic-als?

Hows about a new muse, muse?
I could sing you a good tune
Let me sing you a good tune

The moment you walked in the class

I could see you were a man on a mission

with something missing

So wounded, so depressed

Say wouldn’t it be a laugh to see

that mind in a mess

So let me get right to the heart

I just love your art and all that other stuff

Foolish teacher!

Teach this little girl ‘bout love...

Marty Gull Song #4. The Unteachable Star!

To teach the impregnable mind

To fight the tyrannical Head

To bear an unbearable airhead

To run like a slave ‘til you’re dead

To mark this unreadable crap

To smoke a quick fag in your car

To try when your eyes are too bleary

To teach the unteachable class

This is my test, to swallow my pride

To put up with bitches, to put up with spite

To get them to write, when they can’t even spell

To be willing to sit through an evening of parents and hell!

And I know if I’ll only get through this depression of mine

That my life will have meant something more

Than just killing the time

And the girl will be better for this

That one man bored with bullies and tarts

Still burned with delusion and passion

To teach the unteachable... staaaar!

Marty Gull Song #5. Thank Music For Silly Girls!

Each time I teach a Lolita, oh Nabokov, oh Kubrick

I can’t resist artistic lust, you licence me, thank music

For silly girls

For silly flirts wet dreaming that they’re stars

Thank music for silly girls

It gets their scheming skirts in backs of cars

Those little buds so pushed up in black lace bras

Today I’ll cup and kiss and promise we’re true lovers

Thank music for silly girls

Thank costumed musicals, Chicago oh, her ego blooms

Without style how would paedophiles groom?

Thank music

Thank music for silly girls!

Marty Gull Song #6. I Don’t Know How To Teach Her

I don’t know how to teach her

What to find, how to reach her

She’s a fool, yes she’s a fool

But she’s young and bright, like the sun at night

Her mind is pure moonlight

I don’t know how to capture

The moonbeam of her rapture

She’s a girl, she’s just a girl

And I’ve taught so many girls before

Oh it’s a wicked world

She’s just one more

Should I tutor her?

In the star’s future?

Should I father her?

Let me care for her?

I never thought I’d fall for her

Oh Cordelia

Don’t you think it’s comi-tragic?

She is blind to all life’s magic

She’s the dream who could have been

So wise, so kind, those eyes would find

Tears of beauty oh

She fears me so

I never saw that Judas kiss

On those sulking lips

Yet if she found her promise

I could die, I’d be smiling

I could have hope, just give her hope

But suspicion, and ambition

She doesn’t want to know

She fears me so

Her moonlight glow

Is ice and snow

Marty Gull Song #7. Judy Garland

Southside

See the shit on the pavement

And a girl who is dancing

Down a yellow brick road

Judy Garland

I dare to wear your slippers today

Let the wizard understand

Schooldays

Here’s a poem from Marty

Has the man lost his marbles?

He can’t get my new style

Criticizing

The wizard grieves, can’t get me at all

And the Head begins to smile

Music

Musicals are romantic

No more poor ugly duckling

I am beautiful now

You remember

my clothes were bought from charity shops

Let the music drown that out

Every teacher

seems to reach a

point of mental breakdown

Scorn and rumour

Exhausted humour

And soon he’ll wear that thorn crown

Stardom

Let me be Judy Garland

Let me be a great dancer

Let me learn how to sing

When the chance calls

A girl will throw a man to the wolves

And my new life will begin

Burnt out men in smoky cars

Who failed to smell the coffee

You talk of art I couldn’t give a toss for

I couldn’t give a toffee

Teach me

But you can’t ever reach me

You are lost in a memory

Of a world that is gone

If you teach me

You’ll understand what tragedy is

Look my life is just a song

Marty Gull Song #8. Katie the Devil

She’s queen of the hill

A demon of hell, she

Kills with political

Animal skill

All summoned by her

Fall suddenly ill

Katie the, Katie the Devil

Her tight summer dress

Is quite some disguise

The sum of her legs is

The bum and the thighs

Yes men’s estimate

The size of Brazil

Does not thrill Katie the Devil

I once thought her sweet

Perhaps saccharine

But her coffee is neat

Nitroglycerine

When men are dead beat

She’s still on the scene

For daddy’s love this daughter’s keen

This bold succubus

In inhuman form

So cold and righteous the

Reptilian norm

For women who lust

For power, men chill

Katie the, Katie the Devil

Marty Gull Song #9. The Teacher’s Song

Marty’s a dreamer and Tippi’s a dream

But Hevel is hard as pavement

When the frost stars gleam it’s a wintry scene

Reality demands engagement

The teacher’s prudent

To treat each student

Identically it seems

Never a human being

Or every moon he’s seeing

Children ground to sausage

Soap fat out of bodies

Sane men going mad for sleep but fearful of dreams

Marty often dreamed by the moon’s soft light

But Tippi dreamed more of stardom

And the gossips schemed of a future bright

Playing one off against the other one

The teacher’s prudent

To treat each student

Identically it seems

Never a human being

Or every moon he’s seeing

Children ground to sausage

Soap fat out of bodies

Sane men going mad for sleep but fearful of dreams

A quick kind heart is a poor man’s gold

But Tippi was tricked by silver

Lascivious tongues licking ears foretold

Futures only devils deliver

The teacher’s prudent

To treat each student

Identically it seems

Never a human being

Or every moon he’s seeing

Children ground to sausage

Soap fat out of bodies

Sane men going mad for sleep but fearful of dreams

Marty died for love but Tippi’s still here

Someone saw her in the high street

With an MP3 tinny in her ear

And the music was sickly sweet

The teacher’s prudent

To treat each student

Identically it seems

Never a human being

Or every moon he’s seeing

Children ground to sausage

Soap fat out of bodies

Sane men going mad for sleep but fearful of dreams

Marty Gull Song #10. Well Start A Rumour

Have you heard?

It’s round the bars

Marty Gull has had Tippi Marsh

Well start a rumour

What a hell Marty this is!

Have you heard?

That Marty Gull

Says he doesn’t like musicals

Well start a rumour

What a hell Marty this is!

What price is art?

What lies we start?

What nice upset?

What apple cart?

Well start a rumour

What a hell Marty this is!

Have you heard?

That Marty fool

Thought a card wouldn’t break a rule

Well start a rumour

What a hell Marty this is!

Trip him up

Artistic clown

Life’s a bitch when a man is down

Well start a rumour

What a hell Marty this is!

What a hypocrite, bitter-sweet, viper-pit

This tragic-rich, comic life is!

Marty Gull Song #11. You’ve Got To Kick A Teacher Or Two

You see, Marty...

In this school, one thing counts

My will rules, paramount

Men who get on don’t ask questions

You’ve got to kick a teacher or two

You’ve got to kick a teacher or two, Head

You’ve got to kick a teacher or two

Tantamount to testing you

You’ve got to kick a teacher or two

Why must I break your will?

Butterfly on a wheel

Better he go than my ego

Better break a teacher or two

You’ve got to break a teacher or two, Head

You’ve got to break a teacher or two

Why should I break butterflies?

Better break a teacher or two

Has this man lost all fear?

Do you want your career?

Moral quarreling with your king?

I have to rule a teacher or two

You’ve got to rule a teacher or two, Head

You’ve got to rule a teacher or two

Marty Gull’s a moral fool

Quarreling with his king

When he’s hurt, tired of life

Twist his words like a knife

No-one is good misunderstood

You’ve got to hurt a teacher or two

You’ve got to hurt a teacher or two, Head

You’ve got to hurt a teacher or two

Kill two birds with stony words

You’ve got to hurt a teacher or two

When a girl goes off track

Threaten her with the rack

The crack is clear, attack with fear

Get in and trap a teacher or two

You’ve got to trap a teacher or two, Head

You’ve got to trap a teacher or two

Break his mind upon the rack

Get in and trap a teacher or two

When you get a warning

A budget is dawning

Staffing costs less with death by stress

You’ve got to kill a teacher or two

You’ve got to kill a teacher or two, Head

You’ve got to kill a teacher or two

Every teacher should be warned

You’ve got to kill a teacher or two

Marty Gull Song #12. Send In The Spies

Isn’t he odd?

Doesn’t he stare?

Bug him with small hateful eyes

Subtle software

Send in the spies

Isn’t he strange?

It’s been approved

Whether it’s truth or it’s lies

I need some proof

Send in the spies

Just when it’s stopped, start it again

Sleeping and waking ‘til shaking will make him insane

Taking down statements again of his pain and despair

Find me a stain

Something is there

Recourse to laws

Of course diktat

Revenge is sweet sauce on remorse

Sorry ‘bout that

But where are my spies?

Quick send in the spies

Let’s set him some traps

Isn’t he odd?

Has he no fear?

Losing his friends and his mind

And his career?

And where are my spies?

There have to be spies

- Headmaster we’re here

Marty Gull Song #13. How To Stifle A Writer

“How to stifle a writer?”

“Just one way” said the frightened fools

“The way used by ev’ry shyster

Since the crooks took over the schools.”

“Do I sermon him?” I teased the preacher

“Do I listen or argue or think?

Do I dare to learn from a teacher?”

Said they, smirking: “No, just blink.

How to stifle a writer?

Mark his card, for his life is sin:

The way to stifle a writer
Is to crush him...simply crush him...
Merely crush him...crush him...crush him.”

Marty Gull Song #14. The Old Southside

Southside High Street

Oh concrete ruin

Flowing with puddles of urine

Always the council tax owing

Always the Polish accents growing

And the weather blowing

And the mothers swearing

And the muggers staring

I like a pint in the daytime

Smoking a joint in school playtime!

I like to be in the old Southside

Taking a pee in the old Southside

Plenty to see in the old Southside

If you’re like me in the old Southside!

I ride around like I’m Don Juan

I know an ass you can ride on

School girls are white in the surburb

Make sure you crawl by the right kerb!

Music is loud in the old Southside

Few strippers proud in the old Southside

Trippers and cloud in the old Southside

Immigrants crowd in the old Southside!

Lots of dark faces are seen now

Less of the white race about town

How can you tell the right goodie?

He’s the one wearing a hoodie!

Life’s a bit shit in the old Southside

On benefit in the old Southside

No working fit in the old Southside

On walking sticks in the old Southside!

Here is religion without creed

Rolling a rizla with strong weed

Looking at the plasma TV

Like you’re hooked up to an IV!

We all belong in the old Southside

Singing a song in the old Southside

Something is wrong in the old Southside

BNP strong in the old Southside!

I think I'll go back to Poland

Nothing for me, this is no land
Fit for a hero who fought for

The RAF in the last war!

Marty Gull Song #15. There’s No Business Like Big Business

The bankrupts, the breakups, the cockups, the courts

The bailiffmen who bash your door at dawn

The children, the women, the lawyers, the torts

Your cardboard life in boxes on the lawn

The hostel and the alkies with no hope

The light bulb bare and cord flex for a rope

There’s no business like big business

Like no justice I know

Everything about it is just stealing

Everything a contract will allow

Nowhere could you see that crappy ceiling

When you aren’t feeling that tortured brow

There’s no dastards like bank bastards

They bet ‘til we were broke

Yesterday your assets all were Triple A

That night they sank in the U S A

Now it seems that China’s going to have its say

Democracy’s a joke!

The countries, the corpses, the famines, the floods,

The little wars that drag on in the sun

The headlines, the heartaches, the backstabs, the blood

The liquid capital that just won’t run

The hoping when the postman is your chum

The coping when the job offers won’t come

There’s no business like big business

If banks tell you it’s so

Sweatshops in the Third World make a killing

Saving on their labour costs with kids

Cholera won’t stop their coffers filling

With a quite thrilling amount of quid

There’s no wankers like rich bankers

They smile when you are low

Even with a country that is torn by war

They’ll charge them interest and keep them poor

Genocide it seems is now within the law

Let’s go on with the show!

Marty Gull Song #16. Over A Chip Shop

Somewhere in a red lit room

Up dark stairs

There’s a girl that I once knew

Selling her thin white wares.

Somewhere in a red lit room

Ceilings stare

And the wet nicotine walls won’t

Look away or care.

Someday she’ll steal a dealer’s car

And drive out where the streetlights are

Behind her.

Where pills are dropped the rainbow stops

The ambulance and traffic cops

That’s where you’ll find her.

Somewhere over a chip shop

Young girls sleep

Men walk out of a chip shop

Why then, oh why can’t she?

If happy little children be

Outside the chip shop

Why, oh why, can’t she?

Marty Gull Song #17. Showtime For Nazis

Oh my god we’re up a river

Lost without a paddle

Have you seen Deliver-ance?

We need a bow and arrow

Men are in a rage

On minimum wage

The mystery of history

Is we turn back the page

Until it’s...

Showtime for nazis and musicals
No time for darkies and gays

English before were mixing race

Wishing now for more living space