Lost in the Rubble, the TRouble, The scrubble

I wandered through valleys and alleys of shelves

Time tossed and senseless, what’s something’s now nothing

The things that we loved, now catalogued and left


Roaming the musty gloom, row after row

In silence forgotten, discarded and rotten

Geegaws and ornaments, bits and stuff

A broken china turtle dove


Helmets, pelmets, cats and hats

Oil on board, the fifth earl on a hunt

The broad jump bronze from 1908

Sepia photos torn, crumpled and burnt


Chorus

Lost, tossed, hidden and found

Things Mundane in touch and sound

Caused by time to lose their tale

From dust to rust all fades to pale

Row upon row of unread books, no proof they were ever drafted

Sir Robert Murdoch Struan’s 8 volume bloody tome, 40 years with rod, line and gun

Bells, buckles, bones, phones, pheromones, a pigstick spear unshafted

Old wheels juju and haha, a child in a jar undone


A demand from a lawyer, for a bill from a tailor

A lost love logged on perfumed pink paper

Tiger skin, ming vase, stone tools flint and bone

All lost in memory, want, left alone

Game birds, deer head, water buffalo horn

Celtic cross, monkey’s paw, a shrunken head hair shorne

Greenglaze, samain, skeletal homo sapien

Brass spittoon, cartoon. A finger of cousin damian


Yellowing paper, a cavalry sabre

The deeds to a long gone french farmhouse

Cassette tapes, some brown drapes, a stuffed bear, a low pair

A poster of Bruce Lee, a decomposed mouse


An old china tea set with hand painted flowers

3 crystal bells and a t towel from rhyll


Chorus 2

In this Room of MUndane things

Where the walls are closing in

I could search to the edge, Year upon year

To find one honest tear



Roaming the musty gloom, shelf after shelf

In silence forgotten, discarded and rotten

What once was important and held so dear

The flotsam and jetsam of life, all lost and hidden here.



Lost in the rubble, the trouble, the scrubble

I wander through rooms, full of history’s songs

Goods and possessions, chattel and baggage

Lost in the dust of time nothing belongs


In this pile of Humdrum things

Our stories are lost in the gloom

A moment so precious, singular time

Hoarded and saved in this mundane room