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Album: The Philosopher's Stone (1998)
Artists: Morrison Van

  1. Bright Side Of The Road
  2. Contemplation Rose
  3. Crazy Jane on God
  4. Don't Worry About Tomorrow
  5. Drumshanbo Hustle
  6. Flamingoes Fly
  7. Foggy Mountain Top
  8. For Mr. Thomas
  9. High Spirits
  10. I Have Finally Come To Realize
  11. John Henry
  12. Joyous Sound
  13. Laughing in the Wind
  14. Lover's Prayer
  15. Madame Joy
  16. Naked In The Jungle
  17. Not Supposed to Break Down
  18. Ordinary People
  19. Real Real Gone
  20. Really Don't Know
  21. Showbusiness
  22. Song of Being A Child
  23. Stepping Out Queen Part 2
  24. Street Theory
  25. The Street Only Knew Your Name
  26. There There Child
  27. Try For Sleep
  28. Twilight Zone
  29. Western Plain
  30. Wonderful Remark


Morrison Van
The Philosopher's Stone
For Mr. Thomas
copyright 1980, 1981 Robin Williamson
From faded newsprint used to wrap a fish
Inscrutably the muse selects your face
As I sit drinking famously in an Irish bar
Five thousand miles and thirty years away

With the usual ceremonial you were crowned one night
King of the field where doctors nail the cows
To make of the cock's quill the rights of language
And the pricking heart a sword against the hours

Let smirking scholars writhe in their favourite bondage
And hold you plaintiff to the charge of art
Exhibit A: he falls on legendary lines
Singing mother I don't want a pain here in my heart

The judge in me sucks eggs and jerks the sacred meat
But the boy in me still dreams in Milk Wood town
Like two provincial bastards playing the galleries
I hold your photo to a mirror upside down

And as bacon wafts through hungry streets, your ghost pervades
Just like an old ex-boxer aged twenty two
Staged-up like Falstaff or the wild welsh Rimbaud
You'd laugh to see the monograms they make of you
Ah, Mr. Thomas let us ramble through the midnight fair
Let us throw old bottles at the ferris wheel
Let us paint library on the library let us raid the moonlight
Let us steal whatever we are supposed to steal

Let us watch while the days grow daily more mundane
That rough God go riding with his shears
Hack wide the belly of the swollen mountains
And rip molten heroes forth from their furious tears

Oh, Mr. Thomas, oh, Mr. Thomas,
Let us steal whatever we're supposed to steal
Mr. Thomas, oh, Mr. Thomas,
Why don't we feel whatever we're supposed to feel

Oh, Mr. Thomas, Mr. Thomas,
Why don't we feel whatever we're supposed to feel
Oh, Mr. Thomas let us ramble through the midnight
Let us throw bottles at the ferris wheel
Let us paint library on the library let us raid the moonlight
Let us steal whatever we're supposed to steal
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