Stolen Jewels

by Kev Hopper

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released January 1, 1990

Kev Hopper: bass & samples


Maurice E. Marshall: vocals
Simon Walker: guitar
Samantha Bickley: vocals
Walter Ego: vocals
RJP Townsend: banjo
Rob McKahey: vocals
Chris Salmon: guitar



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Kev Hopper London, UK

Over the years I've been involved in three bands: Stump in the 80's, Ticklish in the late 90's and 2000's and Prescott since 2012.

In addition I have made about ten solo records; most of them available here.

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Track Name: The Parson's Nose
Ain't no politik in the Parson's Nose
No mandate in the old man's toes
Ain't no creed in the way fish feed
No mystery when the beetroot bleeds

And there ain't no religion in the coop of a pigeon, no
And there ain't no ism in the tongue of a lizard, no
And the ain't no rules to the thoughts of mules

and there ain't no learning in a sick heart yearning, no

And there ain't no dogma in the howl of a hyena
And there ain't no thesis in a dog that sneezes
And there ain't no school for a duck in a pool
And there ain't no method in the breath of a leopard

Ain't no politik in the Parson's Nose
No mandate in the old man's toes
Ain't no creed in the way fish feed
No mystery when the beetroot bleeds
Track Name: We Haul in the Booty
We haul in the booty on our cultural safari
We pirate plunder and dismantle
And stuff our rucksacks full of samples
Track Name: 2000 Turkish Kebabs
That's what I call socialism;
Our arteries are hardening on behalf of our brothers abroad
2000 turkish kebabs, 2000 turkish kebabs

That's what I call excavation;
The seams are swelling under seas and under the salt plains
2000 turkish kebabs, 2000 turkish kebabs

A turkish trade union speaks
Straight to the point, straight to the bottom of an empty pit

Now some have said about those times
Nice stance, shame about the dogma
But I say, yes I say
Dollar bonds; that the right brand in the right hands

Thats what I call an education
200 turkish kebabs; it's a gift from abroad, it's a gift from the lord
Track Name: The Pool Song
May the Lord upon high who rules the sky
Look down on our pubs and bars
For the people therein both women and men
Are neglecting their pints and their jars
The craic it is bad and the atmosphere's sad
Every man has a face like a mule
And all he can do is to grab an oul cue
And start playing that game of pool

Now when I was a boy it was always me joy
To visit the pub each night
There was arguments, scraps and killings perhaps
And everyone thought he was right
The badgers and dogs came in from the bogs
There was young fellas acting the fool
But now there's not craic, for every man jack
Has his arse in the air playing pool

To the rural ale-house after milking the cows
Every customer made his way
And there he would dwell and drink till he fell
Till the fiddles and pipes did play

The jigs and the reels and rapping the heels
And polkas and slides by the rule
But now there no chance of a tune or a dance
For everyone's playing the oul pool

Now this pool you will find is a game designed
For a foolish illiterate lout
You puts in four bob and you presses a knob
And a big load of balls comes out
They're placed on the table and then if you're able
To knock them all into a hole
More money goes in and you start o'er again
And you lose a few bob of your dole

In the Irish free state all the people are beat
From watching and playing this game
In their necks they have cricks no doctors can fix
And their backs and their shoulders are maimed
Their arses protrude in a manner most lewd
From being hoisted aloft in the air
Their eyeballs are sore and dripping in gore
And they act in a manner most quare

So if you meet a young man whose face it is wan
And his eyes in a vacant stare
His nostrils dilated, his head corrugated
And he can't tell a cow from a mare
His eyeballs are slack and his head thrown back
And his manners like those of a fool
On your shirt you can bet that you have just met
A man whose gone mad playing pool!

(Colm O'Driscoll)