Doggerland
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Homoerraticus (2014)

Our first steps on a forgotten land, trace retreat, when I stand stern
Left us brave and calm and drugged and sent us copper flow
The saints have all been good with us, scattered to the stars
Our company for ?, oh, when stawerdust will grow
All of us will cover land, all across the oer' tides
Across the panels and wolves, take up a wrench and nail it wide ?
Strike with buck and flameton bow, follow a trail and ?
Onwards to another place, a place to raise a grove and these four walls to shelter us
On this dynastic plot, making ? while the ? grow
Our lands alone I move, on a quest for dark land
On a quest to fold the tides, a quest with awe and elves and wolves
Stricken islands near and far
Back across our father land, cast a fear that overcame
What harm has this in Tuscany? The challenged winter's near

Heavy Metals
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Homoerraticus (2014)

I am the smith. I feed my melt-pot, fashion carbon steely blades
while coulter and the mouldboard stab and break the clod in forest glades
In sultry peace and blood-raised anger, I hammer out my forging trade
Lockheed, Fokker, Curtis, Hawker, Avro, Gloster, Handley Page
Colt, Beretta, Walther, Mauser, Springfield, Ruger in a rage
Holland, Holland, Boss and Purdey, Woodward, Greener: golden age
Every atom ofthe arsenal forged in distant dying sun
In unholy Trinity now lends new form to plough and gun
Harry S. and Oppenheimer, Fermi, Teller, what have you done?
And did they pray that He may guide us in His ways, now battle's won?

Enter The Uninvited
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Homoerraticus (2014)

Space, place, face, halt, block,stop, sorry,we're coming in
We Roman legions wend their way through ever widening roads of Empire
Long straight tracks to new horizons, gilded in soft-tinted campfire
Old Corinium Dobunnorum, Durovernum Cantiacorum
Bold Londinium offers voice in market square and open forum
Angle-Saxons,Danes and Normans on the whole,a curve of learning
Alfie,great in spirit,and battle, on Somerset levels left cakes a 'burning
Willy Conker,work cut out, in Domesday pages marks our number
Sheep and pigs amongst the hundreds, fat tithes and taxes to encumber
Pizza palace, burger kingdom, cocaine, cola, nylon stockings
Playboy, Newsweek, Time and Life, GI Joe and spam fritter shocking
Cold war sparring,Langley spooking, Grosvenor Square 'the London station
Elvis hips and Monroe lips, John Birch against United Nations
Bubble gum and Google-bum, Facebook 'frenzied social network
Apple Mac and iPhone App, Gibson,Fender sonic fretwork
Star Trek, Baywatch, Friends, Sopranos, West Wing, Madmen, Walking Dead
Officer Rick will turn the trick and banish zombies from our heads

Puer Ferox Adventus
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Homoerraticus (2014)

The brash North wind strikes upon the isle of Lindisfarne
I offer searching souls the wisdom of my years
These lessons writ in book of ages holy, past
The agony, the righteous path to steer between the waves
The dark abyss, tied to the mast
This sponge of pragmatic Constantine mops them all up and wipes them clean
It's all okay, it's all official. The Christ child advent here to be seen
Saturn's Solstice, Yuletide blotted, blended in cynic innocence
Meet in Milan and host the party, safer to sit astride the fence
What is this book? These airy pages? Scribed and scribbled with latitude
Tallest tales for poor and needy in wide-eyed wonder at faith renewed
Words of gospel and redemption, absolution if we repent
Emperor's deathbed, late salvation, baptism in dubious testament
There's a wild child coming. There's an angry man
There's a new age dawning here, to an old age plan
Manic mother, her child gone missing: found in the temple with the elder men
Gone about His Father's business. Yeah - but he soon goes missing once again
Ducked his head with the mad-John prophet. West bank desert doubts and fear
White magic, healing, and exorcism: got twelve good men - now the gang's all here
There's a wild child coming. There's an angry man
There's a new age dawning here, to an old age plan
Proclamation, divine seed sown. (Did he really say that thing?)
On donkey colt, calm, to the Passion, knowing full well what the charge must bring
The body bread, a farewell supper, bounty silver, a kiss betrayed
lt's a long, hard haul, that Via Dolorosa. No last contrition, quite unafraid
There's a wild child coming. There's an angry man
There's a new age dawning here, to an old age plan

Meliora Sequamur
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Homoerraticus (2014)

Mortarboard, gown, hood and lace come guide me in learning
In ascension where minds may meet and twitters tweet in modern Latin, in declension
O Domine, O Magister - we aspiring angels sing with one tongue
Forever young, let us follow better things
In saintly word and perfect grammar, to Academia's lofty space
The trivium, quadrivium, all baser thoughts now to efface
O Domine, O Magister - we aspiring angels sing with one tongue
Forever young, let us follow better things
Cruel Bunter-bashing, cane-a-thrashing, lines, detention, soon forgot
O dark ploy! This grammar school boy has paid the price and bought the lot
In the quiet hours of life's twilight, old school ties and photographs
I call to mind the sore behind, the tears, the last and longest laughs
Empty desks and inkwells, darkened chapels, cobweb corridors silent now
Ghostly purple robes and dusty trencher, what could be holier than thou?
O Domine, O Magister - we aspiring angels sing with one tongue
Forever young, let us follow better things
Meliora sequamur: may we follow better things

The Turnpike Inn
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Homoerraticus (2014)

Go no farther: access denied down byways, freeways of the past
The superhighway tollhouse humbly begs your pause, so just hold fast
A word in ear, free marketeer suggests you ponders, and takes your choice
For right of passage, freight or message, change your horses
Raise your voice in protest at the pretty penny taken for your mortal sins
But dally now in sweet surrender, drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn
Beware the brigand, pistols drawn, who offers life for modest fee
And ends his days like poor John Austin, last man on the Tyburn Tree
The palest ale, the stoutest porter fortify the heart, the breast
Weary head on eider pillow, horse blanket over, down to rest
Though we too steal from honest wage, come lie with us, good kith and kin
And dally now in sweet surrender, drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn
Drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn. Drown your sorrows at the Turnpike Inn
Drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn. Though we too steal from honest wage
Come lie with us, good kith and kin and dally now in sweet surrender
Drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn. Drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn
Drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn

The Engineer
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Homoerraticus (2014)

All along the new straight track we plough the old fields under
Seven good feet and a quarter inch, broad rails to steal the thunder
100 picks in '36 sent navvies to meet their maker
as black Box Tunnel worms its way past the Company undertaker
Hard, cast in iron, that engineer: God bless Isambard!
Piston-scraping, furnace-busting, (he) plays the winning card
Rain, Steam, Speed at Maidenhead - Turner's vision wide
Over bridges, girders, hot-driven rivets safely guide
Passenger wagons from Paddington to Bristol's briny blue
On to break the waves, with a thousand horses, turn the churning screw
Hard, cast in iron, that engineer: God bless Isambard!
Piston-scraping, furnace-busting, (he) plays the winning card
But those bonnie lads from way 'oop North, had to have the final laugh:
the ripe new age was the standard gauge, four foot, eight and a half
And rolling out across all Europe, across the mad, bad Empire world
Came the age of steam and the engines roaring, bold brazen Jack unfurled
Arching palaces at Praed Street, stand lofty and serene;
home to their maker and his last two miles to sleepy Kensal Green
Hard, cast in iron, that engineer: God bless Isambard!
Piston-scraping, furnace-busting, (he) plays the winning card

The Pax Britannica
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Homoerraticus (2014)

I came to woo you at behest of Uncle Leo, did my best to charm and Hatter
Sooth, lay thoughts of scheming Saxon Prince to rest
Just seventeen, you were emboldened, turned away plain Orange boy
And made for me a consort haven in your heart, haven of joy
Now Empire spills a growing blot across the atlas, leaves its mark
The hands of men in iron ships stoke their boilers, fan the spark
Generous in deed and promise, our emissaries make fair trade
And pay with sovereign Queenly coin for goods and worldly fortunes made
We will win them and contain them, not by Enneld Pattern gun:
no hard coercion, whip or stick but ten good shillings to be won
See, we offer contracts clear in English, plain as it appears
in small print, some trifling matters: not important, never fear
Pax Britannica, Pax Britannica, rules the headland and the wave
Hansa spirit will enrich us, keep us from an early grave
Sweet Victoria, Mother England, gracious queen whom God will save
We'll leave them gifts of architecture, engineering, laws and more
The willow bat, the bowler hat of gentlemen who keep the score
Head-up code of moral conduct, never minions to deceive
Straight the ball and, best ofall, when time is come, we take our leave
Pax Britannica, Pax Britannica, rules the headland and the wave
Hansa spirit will enrich us, keep us from an early grave
My sweet Victoria, your dearest Albert; two ledger lines above the stave

Tripudium Ad Bellum
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Homoerraticus (2014)

Instrumental After These Wars
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Homoerraticus (2014)

After battle, with wounds to lick and beaus and belles all reuniting
Rationing, austerity: it did us good after the fighting
Now, time to bid some fond farewells and walk away from empires crumbling
Post-war baby-boom to fuel with post-Victorian half-dressed fumbling
I see a screen, grey cathode tube in walnut cabinet, pride of place
In holy family living room. Clipped-tone announcer, powdered face
And now to mould public opinion, sanctify the good and great
Lordly over his dominion, brash television seals our fate
After these wars, when gentler winds were blowing
After these wars, when stocking tops were showing
When the Co-op gave us daily bread and penicillin raised the dead
and combine harvesters kept us fed, after these wars
We thanked the Yank and thanked the Lord for sparing us from dark invasion
Now to liberate, rebuild and balance Europe's new equation
Spooky spies in from the cold with lies and secrets to be sold
To bigger brothers, bigger bombs, le Carré thrillers to be told
We take our place amongst those others who would punch above their weight
Divest ourselves of glowing mantle, mantle of old Britain Great
Bit part cast in Hollywood, ripe old thespian, tolerated
World-weary ham upon the stage, evergreen but over-rated
After these wars, when gentler winds were blowing.
After these wars, when stocking tops were showing.
When the Co-op gave us daily bread and penicillin raised the dead
And combine harvesters kept us fed, after these wars

New Blood, Old Veins
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Homoerraticus (2014)

New blood, old veins, ringing in the new dawn
Like it, lump it, old chips with curry on
Let's get to it! Tempus fugit, time to cheat the coroner
Affordable package tours to the land of Johnny Foreigner
New blood, old veins, kids can't wait to be gone
Next door, jealous neighbours peeping through the curtains drawn
Half-timbered Morris Traveller. Pop the luggage in the back
On the ferry, getting merry, bending over, builder's crack
Out there, far beyond Victorian piers and palisades
Have to toss the candy floss. No more ginger beers or lemonades
Roll on, roll off. Duty free, Dover, Calais
Wet the lip, a hefty sip. Cheap brandy, jolly Beaujolais
Time to visit fresher places, don't be fearful, we'll join the clan
Just be mindful of who's the master, don't pinch the sun bed. Understand:
we're going mental, continental, socks and sandals, Tapas bar
Got a phrasebook, bought a timeshare, lessons in Spanish guitar
Goodbye Blackpool, going where sun is guaranteed
Drink it down, throw it up. Watneys Red: just what I need
Knotted hankie worn too late, melanoma's such a pain
Not too far from hot Malaga to Luton Airport in the rain

In For A Pound
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Homoerraticus (2014)

I've started, so I'll finish. I'm here, so I'll stay
Dally with a little lady, met along the way
In for a penny through the turnstile gate
Searching for the motherlode before it's too late
Barley grain sprouting, spilled upon the ground
I'm the mad hatter, getting fatter, in for a pound
I'm the mad hatter, getting fatter, in for a pound
In for a pound. In for a pound. In for a pound

The Browning of The Green
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Homoerraticus (2014)

Exponential family planning: let me play the numbers game
Sign up for some benefits, get my dues and stake a claim
Spill out to suburbia then spread onwards to the country wide
And when the last plot's taken, I'll spill out on to the other side
It's the browning of the green: we'll be tight as canned sardine
Lemmings to the right and the left of us and all points in between...
It's the browning of the green.
Be fruitful: nothing to it. Fill the earth, subdue it, multiply.
It's written in that Goodly Book. So, it's really best that I comply.
Another baby-booming bloomer? Imbecile fecundity?
Another mouth, but what the Hell? Child benefits, they come for free.
It's the browning of the green: we'll be tight as canned sardine.
Lemmings to the right and the left of us and all points in between...
It's the browning of the green.
A little boy, a little girl: quite perfect but it won't suffice.
Bouncing bairns upon my knee; six or seven might be nice.
Come, time to go with Daddy, find ourselves some open playground space
on these concrete fields of England, this blessed realm, this blessed place.
It's the browning of the green: we'll be tight as canned sardine.
Lcmmings to the right and the left of us and all points in between...
It's the browning of the green.

Per Errationes Ad Astra
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Homoerraticus (2014)

We thought it over for a century or two.
Considered all in light of such short history.
Would you let them loose upon the stars?
Bring their dark and murky waters to lap on pristine shores?
Fine in their own place and with their own destiny to follow.
But - breeding like rabbits on other worlds and with other calmer spirits?
Per errationes ad astra? Then dream, dream on. The dream is all. All good sense gone.
Neil, Buzz, and Michael, they made a team. The right stuff in a can of spam.
The brave adventure came to nought, cruel economics had their say.
A tiny bubble of pure white light from mighty engines roared on Pad 39A in the night.
Orbiters and Soyuz towered on stacks of Lox and hydrogen.
But what a little squib, a little firework in the cosmic crash of fiery
fusion as far galaxies collide: drowned in the vastness of all we see
and, still, can only just imagine.
Let's not worry about the wandering man. He'll wander hither if he can.
But his time may have already come. And gone.

Cold Dead Reckoning
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Homoerraticus (2014)

I don't mean to be a misery but I have to tell you straight
there are zombies in the closet and they're not prepared to wait.
We are the tribe that eats itself and spits out not a morsel thing.
And navigates this desert by our cold dead reckoning.
Does anybody have the charts, coordinates or maps?
A hint of a direction to avoid further mishaps?
A throw of dice, a toss of coin decides what Mrs. Luck might bring
As we navigate this desert by our cold, dead reckoning.
Turmoil, tempest, tall tsunami, haven't we heard it all before?
Await The Beast to join the feast, this party is an open door.
All are welcome! All are joined in penitence, if it please the King
While we navigate this desert by our cold, dead reckoning.
We placed our trust in sad self-doubting leaders who have led,
led us through the dark to slip amongst the ranks and files of walking dead.
Send to us a guiding symbol, tiny bird upon the wing
As we navigate this desert by our cold, dead reckoning.
Now, back across the Doggerland: will higher mighty force redeem
the one who dropped the moral compass, failed to fulfill the dream?
Will testimony tarnish and will sticky reputation cling?
As we navigate this desert by our cold, dead reckoning.
Cheer up, Charlie, brave a smile, lift your chin and walk the walk.
See! Angels watching over all; the snake, the dove, the circling hawk.
There must be another Eden, future garden of earthly delight.
Next time, no fruit: in birthday suit, walk naked through the heavenly night
As we navigate this desert by our cold, dead reckoning.