South of the River
by Robert Batley
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Digital Album
Immediate download of the 10-track album, South of the River in your choice of 320k mp3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.Buy Now ₤7 GBP or more
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'The Dance'
07:12
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Across the Tracks
03:47
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South Bank Charmers
04:44
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St George's Angels
04:02
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All the Queen's Men
05:56
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Silent Night in the City
03:08
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Still Alive at Midnight
03:16
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credits
released 04 October 2008
All Songs Written by Robert Batley
Produced and Mixed by Adam Petty
Musicians:
Robert Batley - Vocals, Acoustic Guitar, Harmonica, Piano on track 4, Congas
Adam Petty - Electric & Acoustic Guitars, Mellotron, Organ on tracks 2 & 7, Percussion
Tom "tc" Collis - Piano
Tibor Beetles - Drums
Silvio - Bass
Charlie Willcocks - Organ
Dan Mayfield - Violin
Adam Batley - Bass on track 7
Phil Murchell - Mandolin
All Songs Written by Robert Batley
Produced and Mixed by Adam Petty
Musicians:
Robert Batley - Vocals, Acoustic Guitar, Harmonica, Piano on track 4, Congas
Adam Petty - Electric & Acoustic Guitars, Mellotron, Organ on tracks 2 & 7, Percussion
Tom "tc" Collis - Piano
Tibor Beetles - Drums
Silvio - Bass
Charlie Willcocks - Organ
Dan Mayfield - Violin
Adam Batley - Bass on track 7
Phil Murchell - Mandolin
tags
license
all rights reserved
feeds
feeds for discography
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Dec 2011 -
Oct 2008
contact / help
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For all other inquiries, click here.
- Track Name: Small Potatoes (on a late night radio show)
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Soft smell of summer girls walk tall by the cathedral
Heeled feet and cobbled street struggle to co-exist
But these long haired girls persist, with great clumsiness
Me and my friends take the piss at this extreme awkwardness
Scoring points with the lads but ruining our chances
Of making the night fly with some long advances
There’s plenty more good times to be had
Down the run…
Holding out for some fun
Rain sparks the street lights then splash the cars that whizz by
Boy-racer heartbreaker tries to sway the ladies
Who pose and pout, scream and shout
Casting long shadows down across the heart of town
Forming lines in the cold there legs on show and souls exposed
A low flying siren catches eyes as she walks by
I fear the sites about to ignite
The boys are on my side…
We take this town for a ride
Hit and run we sing our songs and shed our skins till we get home
Like small potatoes on a late night radio show
The music cracks a doe-eyed vamp dances from afar
Twirling and whirling serpent skinned across the bar
My eyes break wide as I crack a smile
At this temptress of desire setting hearts on fire
Black-eyed guys focus blind on her form
But she doesn’t mind and continues to hypnotize
Under tangled hair she casts me a stare
And everything falls away…
I say, ‘baby please come dance with me you look real sweet and the DJs got it right’
Problem it seems I’ve had a little too much to drink and forgotten I can’t dance!
She starts to laugh, she says, ‘you dance like an old man’
I’m sure she means Travolta
But I was wondering why everybody was looking over
And laughing…
Laughing
White knights ply the rights to sweep the fireflies off their feet
But get hung-up and strung-out by the bouncers on the street
Girls dressing to impress, treading fine lines of excess
But last the long hours through with pre-season freshness
Barman’s blind spots got the college boys tied up in knots
Last round whips out but a score down it won’t stop the rot
The crowd it sighs as the music stops as they
Turn on the club lights
And push us out into the night
Winning time arrives as the mob line long the high street
Tired eyes spy the prize of a chance meet with some sweet thing
Scattered deck of friends throwing up on the loose ends
Meet them back at the kebab for a chat and a little grease to lend
Pass the rank, hail a cab, haggle the man, send him astray
Dodge the fare, great escape but he gives chase down the alleyway
Hop a fence, left for dead by the way
Bringing it back home again
Where work waits for you in the morning
Hit and run our songs are sung, our wings are spread now we’re alone
Like small potatoes on a late night radio
Small potatoes on a late night radio
Small potatoes on a late night radio show… - Track Name: 'The Dance'
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Star struck down on the roadside, she’s cursing the clouds as they crawl by and waiting for me to arrive with the car
Lisa and me, we go back such a long way, good friends since the days of loud lunch-bells and school-plays
Her work does tonight and she asked if I’d mind taking her… I said sure
She’s always been by my side, oh but tonight
I’m damn near speechless, her beauty it stuns me to silence, I can’t take my eyes off her black dress, so endless in its elegance
She’s tall in her stance but then hunches to hide it, her eyes tamed the stars if she’d just let the light in
Swinging her hips as I whisper how pretty she is
I once was blind, now I see the girl I want is standing next to me
Lisa lights up the night with her laughter, knocking back jokes that I tell her as we stumble in late, the parties in full swing where drunkards trade dates
The cross round her neck it weighed grey on her shoulders, grabbing hold tight as the work boys looked over
She tugged at my arm and asked if I’d take her to dance
The music changes beat, she looks to me as couples pair off
For a slow dance, she’s pained waiting for me to take charge and sweep her gently in my arms, but I freeze as the moment slips past
‘I’m sorry’ I tell her but she says it’s nothing that she’ll be alright and that I shouldn’t worry
But fear grips my heart as I sense that I’ve wasted this chance
I once was blind, now I see the girl I want is lonely just like me
Ashes of best dressed intentions are all that’s left of this work do as Lisa takes hold of her coat pleads ‘please, please take me home’ to this staid chaperone
Our cars parked on top deck where moonlight it guides us, there’s no-one around as she breaks down in sadness
I turn on the engine as ‘Thunder Road’ kicks in; headlights hum on full beam as I step before them
She shouts, ‘what are you doing?’ It must be the moonlight; it must be her eyes, as I twist on the night
Sitting scared of the moment so damn sure someone would notice, then she did something amazing, opened her door wide and cranked up the volume
I took her hand soft and pulled her in tight till our hearts beat as one as we danced in the headlights
Bruce kept on singing as I think I fell in love
Bruce kept on singing as I think I fell… in love - Track Name: Dragging Heels (through Bexley's battlefields)
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No sympathy I tell Corinne for summer skirts in playful winds, landing blows that leave her dress breathless
And taunt her with endearing recklessness
My love for her is real…
Dragging heels through Bexley’s battlefields
The clock tower is crumbling down where snipers sit the battle out, tagging their names onto the brick walls
As shifting clouds pull shapes around a dead sky
Brake lights shine from the roads…
Where alloyed cars go racing past St George’s flags dragged upon their windows
The autumn change from summers rage lines the streets with leaves again, dirty dancing across the Broadway
Mixing with kids whose lips lead them astray
They anxiously bait…
And went to count their lucky stars to find that some of them had been misplaced
Undercover police cars sit on yellow lines and scout the kids, clawing away at the bus stop
Corinne and me walked nervously through the cross-fire
She pulled my arm in tight…
‘Freewheelin’ style we stumbled by and I prayed to God one day that she’d be mine
She left her coat at home tonight and shivered in the fading light, hunching her shoulders to the heavens
I take a chance and place my coat around her
She laid the softest kiss on my cheek
And playfully then states to me ‘mister you know this doesn’t mean a thing’
Her eyes could shoot the moonlight through and though I’m sure she always knew, I never told her how I felt for her
As I joked about her love for all things green
I think this made her mad…
As she crossed her arms and threw my jacket back
A hard rain began to fall as we ducked into a shopping door…
The Broadway kids retreated to their trenches
Finally she and I remained…
But whilst our eyes were watching God the ground beneath our feet it broke away
I leaned and watched as from the door she stepped into the bustling storm and started to dance between the raindrops
Who knew an angel’s grace could be so fair
My love for her is real…
Still dragging heels through Bexley’s battlefields - Track Name: Across the Tracks
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The high street buzzes in the night time
With bodies lit up in the starlight
Across the tracks I slide to meet Lisa at the check-in line
She would…
Pull me tight like a runner in the night
With a promise on her lips and the devil in her eyes she’d cry
‘Let’s stay out all night’
Sunshine is waiting for us at the finish line
As we open our hearts to the sound of the stars dancing in the sky
Down on the steps they’ve got their hands tied
Punch-drunk love hit them on the blindside
Me and Lisa step inside to be buried alive till closing time
Then she’d…
Take my hand lead me back across the tracks
To that barren land on the hilltop high and sigh
‘Don’t leave me alone tonight’
Sunshine is waiting for us at the finish line
As we open our hearts to the sound of the stars swaying in the sky
‘Don’t close your eyes just yet the moon won’t let us drown in the night
And come the sunrise… your be alright’
Our days spent dancing on a fine line
Caught out by full moons and high-tides
As we sit here and watch the day rise
It makes me realize…
To be young, is to be free, is to be alive
Sunshine is waiting for us at the finish line
As we open our hearts to the sound of the stars dancing in the sky
They dance for you and I, its all in our hearts and minds - Track Name: South Bank Charmers
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Doves wait on the cusp of the flood
Beside Noah’s arms wide embracing the sun
Where the light bends friends are forged
Where the hope ends dreams will die
If we stay one step behind
Grace survives…
Cast your heart to the Thames and make peace with the flood
Brace yourself for the rain and high tides to come
Up on the banks the street-kids catch fire
Waving white flags from the bars punctured sides
Blinded by faith in the moons healing light
The night survives…
Chrome ghosts sell their souls outside the square
Girls stripped to their belts melt hearts of the devils there
As kids they make a pact with the night
Casting eyes over the sites for a well read blessing by the riverside
Wounded witnesses mix with the street-kids and part schoolboy wishes with their tasteless kisses
A Samarian spirit pulls thorns from the lilies crying, ‘somebody help me, it’s not quite finished’
Southbank charmers tease the night workers, the street-kids stagger dragging fingers like daggers
As they look to the sky for a sign that the bows in the cloud
Chrome ghosts sell their souls outside the square
Girls stripped to their belts melt hearts of the devils there
The kids they make a pact with the night
Casting eyes over the sites for a well read blessing by the riverside
Doves wait on the cusp of the flood
Beside Noah’s arms wide embracing the sun
The Thames runs a course back out to the sea
Filled with remorse for the fortune it keeps
As faith-fearing hearts drag sparks cross the streets
Grace digs deep… - Track Name: St George's Angels
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Sunlight reigns on George’s midday parade; blinking and winking at the girls passing him by
This stony faced pilgrim’s taste for the summer girls chaste, there past the cathedral looking for a good time
Open eyed tourists arrive on their coaches; flashing and gassing at the sights in all there glory
Whilst open-top buses stop as the commissioner takes a shot, at bringing to life this cities page three story
Take me safely in your arms
Lately I’ve been feeling alive, alive
City skies break through the high rise and shine, shine
Beneath the suns heat, George’s angels run wild
The bells of the spire chime as the face strikes five and young lovers rush to meet each other on the steps of St Pauls
Putting there love on show so that everyone knows, as they walk off hand in hand through the chapel halls
Take me safely in your arms
Lately I’ve been feeling alive, alive
City skies break through the high rise and shine, shine
Beneath the suns heat, George’s angels run wild - Track Name: All the Queen's Men
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Queen bee cut through the Bexley streets where pearly kings laid down well groomed wreaths
Roads had been swept for courtesy curb rejects as the toothless bums were kidnapped from the worn park steps
Officers bowed behind dusted lapels as gaunt grammar school boys taunted the shy Catholic school girls
Out of breath toy soldiers were on top of yearly contests, beaming like studded stars as she hung tin medals round their sunburnt necks
Cooley kids formed a string quartet playing out of date licks for All the Queens Men
Flag waving arms ached in the afternoon heat as the pearly kings…
Clapped hands and tapped their feet
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, dear majesty
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, dear majesty
Walkabout cross town had her playing up to the blood baiting crowd as she opened a bottle of fairy liquid and tipped it in the Broadway water fountain
As the bubbles poured out the cheering crowd picked up a shout; ‘Who’ll save the Queen?’
Wearing a Union Jack ascot hat and a flattering poker-dot Mac, she worked the paparazzi line like a real red carpet pro
Taking time out to speak on a young fans phone, to his Nan struggling with hearing loss sitting safely at home
Army grunts catch their breath striking lion like fronts for All the Queens Men
Broad shouldered soldiers barked orders in the heat as these crew cut kids…
Marched arms and stamped their feet
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, dear majesty
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, dear majesty
Banishing the soft spots of rain with this old tribal dance, she handed out her grandson’s number to the prettiest girls in this town
As boroughs best athletic hope cracked a joke in his tightest tracky-Bs, the Queen grabbed the bouquet of posies from his grip and whispered something sweet in his ear
Cineworlds smell of stale popcorn it drew the procession to halt, Harry Potter screen three sold out to the Queen and her entire entourage
This block-eyed security guide pulled out an ‘unlimited refill Tomb Raider flask’ and handed it to the star struck school kid working the till behind the glass
This red-faced fool, tripped on his shoe, falling head over heels, dropping the flask and the food.
Flash photos showed him fighting the tears as the Queen so compassionately…
Grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, dear majesty
Bleeds from the cracks on these dead end streets
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, dear majesty
Raw eyed recruits were broke and beat when she finally made it to their street, orders forced round the Danson assault course waiting for the film to come to an end
Major Tom apologized for the eye watering smell of salt and sweat but the Queen just laughed and cracked a gag saying she preferred…
Well worn men
The renovated old Danson house opening was her final port of call, but she’d hardly been inside for long when she burst back out through the front doors
Screaming high, swearing blind she’d seen a ghost skulking the halls, as she jumped in her car, hit the lights and trailed like fire down the main road
The tourist board saw park sales sore as out of town kids camped out on the estate floors
This haunted endorsement brought the cash flooding in, whilst the Bexley streets…
Buzzed with tales from the Queens visit - Track Name: Silent Night in the City
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Words were tight on the roads tonight; blank faces stride paces back home
No sound as the cities locked down ‘cept sighs for dreams left untold
The distant ring of a siren scream echoed in the suspicious stars
Watchmen bound by the cold winds of town fade out with wound wearied hearts
Silent night as the city dies
In the moons fragile light, they cross the bridge with heads held high
Bones were bruised and splint set to lose as soft drops of rain started to trace
Heavens grace washing over the pain and emptiness drowning this place
Silent night as the city dies
In the moons fragile light, they cross the bridge with heads held high
Life moves on for the fortunate ones, a detachment sets up in their souls
Side by side pledging time in the night, with their families waiting back home - Track Name: Still Alive at Midnight
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Solomon got involved on a Friday night, showing some self-control at the vital time Abby wants to be more than a one night stand
Brought up lonely, turned out to mean just good friends dancing up against me
Lead them, lead them, lead them on
These high street youths set loose upon the dance floor
Soul’s seat bold next to the shop girls
Craving salvation but their lines are well worn
Abby she’s running on empty
But her beauties for sale at the price of a short
Riot squad sing along to the trash house band, riffing on ‘US Bonds’ to make the dance floor crack
Abby tempts the frauds schooled to knock them back
High street heartache, fumbled last train, worn down states but faith keeps us alive
Eye them, eye them, eye them up
These stone stares cut the hope out of the patrons, so let’s move on
Soul’s seat bold next to the shop girls
Craving salvation but their lines are well worn
Abby she’s running on empty
But her beauties for sale at the price of a short
Dolled up nice on a Friday night
Dolled up nice on a Friday night
Dolled up nice on a Friday night
Dolled up nice on a Friday night - Track Name: Last Train Headache (12:05)
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Last train headache arrives again, hung out to dry the stars cave in
A station rush sure beats the bus crushed up against the working men
Night life must end with loud regrets, St Paul he never meant we he said
Bad mouthing off inspector cops, insults they took as a serious threat
Platform scene police seal his fate
The last train home is running late
Some Swedish fare is worse for wear, weak drunk on English medicine
Squinting his eyes at the carriage lights, easing his mind on Sarah’s legs
Full throated sighs at train track grinds, try as he might his time has come
Yanks the stop line, train doors pull wide and throws up beside the platform run
Inspector slaps on the spot fine
The last train home is blocking the line
Well read young heirs, swim shallow depths, backbiting friends they left for home
Such spoon-fed sense, self righteous men voice words so dense my blood goes cold
The night’s best dressed usual suspect is curled up wrecked and left to rot
Oh what a mess, the drink has set and now she sleeps straight through her stop
Three wheel dealers trade tips on stock
The last train home is rambling on…
Stale air carries its own heartbeat, unsavoury taste it chafes my lips,
Drunk skunks asleep across three seats, dry beer slips from his fingertips
High heeled regrets from Dartford’s pets, clicking their heels and cursing their steps
Burger King stench makes hard-necks wretch as sauce spills down the toe-rags legs
City lights die through the window
The last train home is taking its toll
Take me home, take me home, take me home, take me home
Take me home, take me home, take me home, take me home
