First movement

THE DRYBONE MAN

The Drybone man. 
There’s no flesh, no blood, no life
In a Drybone man
He’s skin and bone,
And dust and graveyard sand
The Drybone man. 

The Drybone man.
Comes like an ill wind blowing, 
Bad luck sowing a seed
Always shifting
Shadow to shadow 
Looking for souls to feed on
The Drybone man
And bone fire and fairie lights
Won’t light the dark around him

And London’s calling, late night calling
Calling to the underworld
Bully vans and sirens bawling 
While Drybone trawls the shadows

And the tower block of blind eyes
Stands quiet in the silent night
Though some sing noel in darkened rooms
Denying the gloom with coloured lights 

Second movement
UNDER THE DAMP STAIRWELL

And under the steps, 
Take two steps 
Under the damp stairwell 
Where the shadows stir and the silence lurks 
Won’t hear no jingle bell 
And a man’s in there
Just standing there
Tall man in a big long coat
with a leather bag and a leather face
Like a dried up shadow ghost
 
And Man can see and Man can hear
But Man’s no longer man 
Man’s a drybone man now, but 
Man don’t understand
And all Man hears is wheezing breath 
Squeezing chest, his lungs as dry as sand

Third movement
THE LIFT

Ping!

Lift door opened on ground floor, 
And somebody there in the lift
A tall dark man, just standing
Wearing a long, long jacket 
And in his hand 
A big leather sack that looked like it was holding
Didn’t hesitate
Stepped in quick
thrill of hope, a rejoicing
seasonal luck, returning
And pressed button six
Intending
Nothing but bad intending
 
Ping!

The Lift doors shut
The elevator jumped
T’was two of us in that metal box
 
And the lift went up 
Up, up
Passed floor one
No stop
Grabbed the sack, but the shadows knew 
I punched the man as we passed floor two
 
And the lift went up  
Up, up
Three and four
No stop
And the bag in my hand felt hot and loose
As I kicked the man with my heavy boots
And the lift went up  

And the shadows flapped 
Like pigeon wings
And the smell of rot was stinking
And the lift went up
And I heard a sound
Like howling 
Not angel song, 
Not heralding
Howling

And the lift went up
And darkness filled the metal box
And at floor six 
The lift stopped

Ping!

Fourth movement
THREE YOUNG KINGS

Memories are times gone
Past thoughts, long done
No going back, no u-turn
What’s done, won’t be undone 

And a cold wind blows, jack frosting
No chestnuts, no roasting 
And up the steps of the tower block
Come Three Young Kings boasting
Three young lads out coasting
Falalala and toasting

And all is calm, and all is right,
They’re sneaking home late, up six flights 
Talking of their warm soft beds 
As their footsteps drag on concrete steps 
As they step up to the cold stairwell 
Where drybone man is standing still
Like a rotting spirit from hell

And Tall-boy comes to a stop
Halts
Points to the man in the shadows
What?
Don’t want to get too near
But
What’s Man doing in there?
Bruv

Daring to check, daring to see
Small-boy steps in cautiously 
They’re egging him on, but pulling him back
He gives them a wink and steps to the man 

Fifth movement
SMALL-BOY IN THE SHADOWS

And that’s when the night starts churning
Black hole stretching and curling
Rising 
Like menacing shadows
Gift wrapped from darkest gallows
And a drybone hand grips him
And Drybone man gives him
The sack of bones he’s carrying
The bag of bones he’s carrying

And before he can blink
Before he can think
Dry skin bag is on his wrist 
And before he can think
Before he can blink
Dry skin straps around his waist
And he turns to his friends
He turns to his mates
But the two of them are just backing away
Backing away
And all he can see 
Is shrinking face 
As they point and gasp and back away

And something moves,
Crawling
Up his back
Clawing
And he wants to escape
It was just a mistake
But his mates just keep on backing away
They want to help, but don’t want to stay
They just keep backing away 
Cause above his head
There’s a leather face
With hollow eyes and a dead gaze

And clacking bone hands
And cracking bone spine
Climbs on Small-boy like dried up vines
Like dried up vines

And the two lads turn, and the two boys run.
They wanna be home before night is done
But the last they see
As they turn and flee
Is Small-boy reaching helplessly
Helplessly
Just reaching out helplessly
From the churning sea of shadows.

And he’s lost to the shadows
He’s lost to the shadows

And the shadows know
Oh the shadows know…