Bertie`s Brochures — текст песни (Fatima Mansions, The)

August the 20th: Yes, folks, it`s 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
Irish writer within. Not to discuss his works, though the works
are known to them; they`ve been published in the tabloid papers
by the police under the heading Barbaric Butcher`s Brochures.
No, 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 word about him, except a fool like me [(and his skin)].

In rainy Ireland in the 50`s
There outside a pink farmhouse door
A small Bertie, playing at digging trenches,
asks, Daddy, what`s the blowtorch for?
He said, The torch will cut the cars to turn them into sculpture
so 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 Bertie`s brochures
You`ll be enchanted, I am sure
The whole world`s in Bertie`s brochures:
All the wisdom, the smiles of dear friends

Through freakshow Britain, through the Eighties
Bertie works in labs, though his father`s aims still endure
though only at night does he do his real work
Learning, writing his brochures...

for he still believes that everyone`s a poet
and that all he has to do is to set it down
and so transform the milkman,
the waitress and the gunman into immortal ART!!

Now they`re laughing at Bertie`s brochures
Detectives with crowbars and skewers
They see things in Bertie`s brochures:
Their own hatred of all other races and their fear

Don`t laugh at Bertie`s brochures
He would not if they were yours
So what if your enemy is there?
Bertie`s an artist, so why should he care?
It`s the north European peasant experience