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Lord Chancellor's Nightmare Song (Live 1973)

Love unrequited, robs me of me rest

Love, hopeless love, my ardent soul encumbers

Love, nightmare like, lies heavy on me chest

And weaves itself into my midnight slumbersWhen you're lying awake with a dismal headache

And repose is taboo'd by anxiety

I conceive you may use any language

You choose to indulge in, without improprietyFor your brain is on fire, the bed-clothes conspire

Of usual slumber to plunder you

First your counter pane goes and uncovers your toes

And your sheet slips demurely from under youThen the blanketing tickles, you feel like mixed

Pickles, so terribly sharp is the pricking

And you're hot and you're cross and you tumble and

Toss 'til there's nothing 'twixt you and the tickingThen the bed clothes all creep to the ground in a heap

And you pick 'em all up in a tangle

Next your pillow resigns and politely declines

To remain at its usual angleWell, you get some repose in the form of a dose

With hot eye balls and head ever aching

But your slumbering teems with such horrible dreams

That you'd very much better be wakingFor you dream you are crossing the Channel

And tossing about in a steamer from Harwich

Which is something between a large bathing machine

And a very small second class carriageAnd you're giving a treat penny ice and cold meat

To a party of friends and relations

They're a ravenous horde and they all come on board

At Sloane Square and South Kensington StationsAnd bound on that journey you find your attorney

Who started this morning from Devon

He's a bit undersiz'd and you don't feel surprised

When he tells you he's only elevenWell you're driving like mad with this singular lad

By the bye the ship's now a four wheeler

And you're playing round games, and he calls you bad names

When you tell him that, ties pay the dealerBut this you can't stand so you throw up your hand

And you find you're as cold as an icicle

In your shirt and your socks the black silk with gold clocks

Crossing Sal'sbury Plain on a bicycleAnd he and the crew are on bicycles too

Which they've somehow or other invested in

And he's telling the tars all the particulars

Of a company he's interested inIt's a scheme of devices, to get at low prices

All good from cough mixtures to cables

Which tickled the sailors, by treating retailers as

Though they were all vegetablesYou get a good spades man to plant a small tradesman

First take off his boots with a boot tree

And his legs will take root, and his fingers will shoot

And they'll blossom and bud like a fruit treeFrom the green grocer tree you get grapes

And green pea, cauliflower, pine apple and cranberries

While the pastry cook plant cherry brandy will grant

Apple puffs and three corners and banburysThe shares are a penny and ever so many

Are taken by Rothschild and Baring

And just as a few are allotted to you

You awake and with a shudder despairingYou're a regular wreck, with a crick in your neck

And no wonder you snore, for your head's on the floor

And you've needles and pins from your soles to your shins

And your flesh is acreep, for your left leg's asleepAnd you've cramp in your toes and a fly on your nose

And some fluff in your lung and a feverish tongue

And a thirst that's intense

And a general sense that you haven't been sleeping in cloverBut the darkness has pass'd, and it's daylight at last

And the night has been long, ditto, ditto my song

And thank goodness they're both of them over

Songwriters

Todd Harry Rundgren;Sir Arthur Sullivan;William GilbertPublished by

EARMARK MUSIC, INC.

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