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RECYCLED album (2019)

RECYCLED album cover

The "Recycled" album was launched in February 2019 and is initially only available as a CD from me in person or by emailing me, but eventually you'll be able to download it (free) as a .zip file which includes the tracks as .mp3 files, and a .pdf file of the album graphics.

The album appeared almost by accident after I was asked to produce a one-off CD containing a certain as-yet unrecorded song of mine for a friend of a friend, with the suggestion that perhaps I could pad it out with some "shed songs".

"Shed songs" in this case was a reference to the 36 comic songs about sheds that Tony Beysens and I wrote which had been whittled down to a list of 14 for the "Sheds" album by folk band Tobias (of which Tony, Paul Boness and myself are the members)."Sheds" was released in August 2018 and raised over £500 for charity.

Although we, as Tobias, had decided to not make a "Sheds 2" album, I realised that some of my unused songs had actually been recorded but were only left off "Sheds" due to lack of space so creating a new album wouldn't involve too much work. A mere 10 days of it meant that there were a few rough edges but I like to think that "they're all comic songs anyway" is a good excuse!

Download the 'Recycled' album
(A 56Mb .zip file of .mp3 files which is FREE to download.)

The CD booklet tells you a bit about each of the songs
(1Mb .pdf file, also free to download.)


1 Bin and Gone

2 Watch with Mother

3 Ballinacree

4 Camper Van

5 Scandi Noir

6 Beer in the Corner

7 Shed Yule

8 Greenhouse Windows

9 Heinrich’s Tuba

10 La Donna

11 Hoedown in the Shed

12 The Final Step



© 2018 L Moran

There is a fine place on which I am keen
But it is a place that for years I’ve not seen
My seven-year sentence, it’s stopping me
Being back with my sweetheart in Ballinacree
    (I was) sent to Australia for stealing a spade
    I’ll always regret that mistake which I made
    (Going) half round the world, doing hard labour too
    It’s a cruel country which does that to you

Ch   I miss that garden with roses so fine
I miss that bench where she said she’d be mine
I miss that cottage which larks fly above
And I miss my sweetheart, my only true love

My sweetheart was pretty, and sharp as a blade
Clever, and funny, and I’d got it made
And life was idyllic, we sported and played
(But she) met someone else and so I was betrayed
    It was for my sweetheart I’d needed that spade
    I’d killed her and now on the ground she was laid
    But I knew that I couldn’t just leave her there
    She’d soon start to smell so I must bury her


So I stole that spade, and back then I sped
And buried the body down under the shed
The theft had been seen so when they came for me
There was the spade but no body to see
    I was transported, but things could be worse
    (I was) not hanged for murder, never paid for a hearse
    So it may be prudent when once more I’m free
    ...If I give a wide berth to Ballinacree

    ...And I miss that spade, and my only true love

Beer in the Corner

© 2017 Lol Moran

I got so much beer in last Christmas
I had to put some in the shed
This morning I looked at the bottles
And what I saw filled me with dread
    The best-before dates on the labels
    Suggested they soon would be passed
    The beer would soon need to be poured down the drain
    Unless I could drink it all fast

Ch   There’s lots of beer in the corner
There’s lots of beer on the shelf
If you don’t help me to drink it
I’ll have to drink it myself
    I’ll have a bad head in the morning
    And some other bad bits inside
    But will I regret it? I’ll just have to wait
    And see once the symptoms subside

I should have never forgotten
That they were out there all that time
And drafted a plan for to drink them
Two a day would have been fine
    I find that I face a dilemma
    To drink too much now or just wait
    Be bad soon from drinking too much beer today
    Or later, from beer past its date


So I’m organising a party
To see off this expiring beer
I’ll need your assistance to drink it
As there’s quite a lot of it here
    There’s Hobgoblin, Doom Bar and Foster’s
    Even some Newcastle Brown
    And all of it needs to be knocked back post-haste
    Before the bin lorry comes round


Bin and Gone

© 2017 Lol Moran

We put out our wheelie bin on bin collection day,
And gave it not a single thought as we went on our way.
Once emptied it would stand there, all the day till our return.
But getting back that evening there was no bin to discern.
    So we began to look for it; it never strays too far.
    Someone must have got mixed up, you know how people are.
    But we couldn’t find it though we searched all round the close,
    So we spread the search net wider, it would turn up we supposed.

Ch   Wheelie bin, wheelie bin, our wheelie bin was gone.
It would cost us forty quid, to get another one.
Wheelie bin, wheelie bin, our wheelie bin was gone.
We thought it would turn up again, but sadly we were wrong.

We searched all round our neighbourhood, but our bin wasn’t there.
It seemed as if our wheelie bin had vanished in thin air.
We looked beneath the hedges, any place that it could be,
And wore out several pairs of shoes besides a torch or three!
    But it never did turn up, but why, we couldn’t say.
    Had a sudden gust of wind just carried it away?
    Could someone have pinched it? Were we victims of a theft?
    This really was a mystery, that left us quite bereft.


My wife she then remembered that we have C C T V,
So she looked at the footage, just to see what she could see.
She found the dustcart’s visit, saw a man in hi-vis vest,
Hooking our bin on the cart; the cart would do the rest.
    But when it tipped the contents, it just didn’t stop at that;
    The bin as well went in the cart, and doubtless was squashed flat.
    The binman to his mate then gave a shrug, as if to say:
    “Ah well, another (one) bites the dust! The second one today!”


Ch   Wheelie bin, wheelie bin, our wheelie bin was gone.
It would cost us forty quid, to get another one.
Wheelie bin, wheelie bin, our wheelie bin was gone...
...It was swallowed by a dustcart
...but not the recycling one!

Camper Van

© 2017 Lol Moran

My very boastful neighbour, Stan, he had got a camper van
Which all year on his drive would stand, and never move from there
About it he’d go on and on, its stylish lines and its aircon
The beds he’d rarely slept upon, his boasting drove me spare
    I came up with a clever plan, to keep up with this boastful man
    I’d build myself a camper van, to sit there next to his
    So my old shed one day I took, and perched it on my pickup truck
    A camper with a rustic look that really was the bizz

Ch   I - had a camper van, in which I’d tour this land
I - had a camper van, you’d never call it grand
I - had a camper van, with a sleeping bag inside
Who needs to shell out fifty grand to tour both far and wide?

I would take it everywhere, to mountains high and castles fair
Its visits home were rather rare, to stand beside its neighbour
But when it did, Stan would take note, and quickly he would come and gloat
Then with polish and creosote, we’d be in competitive labour
    But sadly that’s all in the past, my Transit, it expired at last
    And sheds aren’t made for moving fast, so they both met their maker
    My neighbour’s van it stands there yet, but little polish does it get
    He rents it out like a buy-to-let, on a thousandth of an acre



The Final Step

© 2018 Lol Moran

My sister Siobhan had a partner called Sean
And together they’d dance in their tap-dancing shoes
The shoes made a racket and no-one could hack it
So for practising they could find nowhere to use
    They came round and said “Can we please use your shed?
    “As no-one will have us, we have to confess
    “For as you can guess, tap shoes make such a mess
    “That in quite a short time wooden floors show distress”

Ch   Never let step-dancers loose in your shed
They’ll kick all the walls and the floor they will shred
The timber won’t make it, the screws they won’t take it
So they’ll turn your shed into firewood instead

No-ow... this being my sister I couldn’t resist her
And so to her pleading I had to give in
But with a proviso, some plywood they’d buy, so
The floor was well covered before they’d begin
    The plywood from B&Q it cost a pound or two
    Much less than hiring a hall for a night
    So they were enthused as they put on their shoes
    To start their first practice one warm Thursday night


Then I... heard a loud crash and a scream so I dashed
To the garden from whence all the noise it had come
The dancers were fine but that old shed of mine
It had bitten the dust and it left me quite numb
    What I then inferred they denied, gave their word
    That the plywood had not been removed from the floor
    And they both concurred the disaster occurred
    When they pushed with their feet off the wall furthermore


So the... wall fell away then the roof it gave way
And the other walls likewise fell into a heap
But it’s not all bad news – that new plywood we used
Protected the floor so there’s one bit I’ll keep
    So I’ll build it once more on that well-preserved floor
    And when finished it will be as good as when new
    But as for the dancers, I’m taking no chances
    And won’t let them near it
    In fact I would fear it
    If they ask I won’t hear it
    – Well, you wouldn’t too!


Greenhouse Windows

© 2017 Lol Moran

I have a garden, it is rather large.
And it has a shed and has a greenhouse
It has a rockery up near the garage.
And under everything you’ll find a woodlouse
    I grow potatoes, Charlottes are the best.
    I guess that you could say I have green fingers
    But one garden job is the one that I detest,
    Once a year to clean the greenhouse windows

I’d use the jet washer that would shift the muck;
The missus thinks that it would leave ’em streaky
So I have to use a cherry picker truck,
A shammy and a bucket that’s not leaky
    I buy my Windolene, litres at a time,
    I get it from my local cash-and-carry
    But she insists it’s the one that smells of lime,
    You never think of these things when you marry

I have a garden, it is rather large.
And it has a greenhouse and a big shed
And a heap of compost, just past the garage,
Where I put the scraps of food and stale bread
    The compost heap is great, it’s effective and it’s free
    Not pretty, but invigorates the flowers
    Now she’s gone in there, I’ve got a vacancy
    For a wife who’ll leave the windows to the showers

I have a garden, it is rather large.
And it has a shed and has a greenhouse
It has a rockery up near the garage.
And under everything you’ll find a woodlouse
    I grow potatoes, Charlottes are the best.
    I guess that you could say I have green fingers
    One garden job that I always did detest
    ...But no longer do, clean the greenhouse windows

Heinrich's Tuba

© 2018 Lol Moran

Heinrich Grüber loved the tuba
He played in an oompah band
His wife Gerda she preferred a
String quartet on the other hand
    In the house she banned him playing.
    The din it sent her nerves all fraying
    Told him she would not be staying,
    If to play in the house he planned

Heinrich’s neighbour Albert Weber
Suggested a shed might help a bit
Just erect one of stout construction
As far from the house as it would fit
    Heinrich thought it a great idea,
    And soon a shed it did appear
    With soundproofed walls and a fridge for beer
    At the end of the garden, where she’d not hear it

So Heinrich Grüber took his tuba
Into the shed where he played all day
High and low and fast and slow
For hours and hours he played away
    His wife was happy, she’d not heard him,
    Listened to Schubert, much preferred him
    But he never came for the
    Dinner she prepared him,
    So to the shed she made her way

Heinrich Grüber holding his tuba
Lay on the floor and he was stone dead
Could it be murder asked poor Gerda
Or perhaps a fault in his brand new shed
    The coroner’s verdict: overblowing.
    That and the alcohol the tests were showing
    He’d spent all the day in supping and blowing,
    He had just blown up his head.

Now Heinrich Grüber plays his tuba,
Accomp’nying the celestial choir
But up above they don’t all love
His practising; they think it’s dire
    He’s made paradise angry and tearful,
    Mother Teresa gave him an earful
    Of going deaf again Beethoven is fearful
    And similar thoughts afflict the choir

    The harps aren’t heard above his oompah,
    They wish he’d stick it up his jumper
    Or get a transfer to down under
    ...To play hot music by the fire

The Hoedown in the Shed

© 2018 Lol Moran

Grandma had a hoedown on Independence Day
Folks all came from miles around, dressed up all fine and gay
She had a marquee in the yard where folks could dance and play
But a hurricane it went and blew old grandma’s tent away
    But grandma, being grandma, she had a backup plan
    They would use that wooden shed once built by her old man
    It wasn’t big but it would do for folks to strut their stuff
    She would have her hoedown in a space not big enough

Ch   A hoedown in the shed, a hoedown in the shed
Grandma’s hoedown it was held in grandpa’s old wood shed
It was somewhat crowded, but later most folks said
Apart from the blood it was really good, that hoedown in the shed

Cousin Wilbur he was there with his girl Mary-Jo
We wondered what she saw in him; we still don’t really know
They was kissin’ and cuddlin’, didn’t notice being pushed
Or the cries of woe from the folks whose toes beneath their heels were crushed
    Charlie Perkins was there too with squeezebox in his hand
    Bellows going in and out, the music it was grand
    With everybody bunched up tight it really was a squash
    Them bellows squeezed some fingers flat at grandma’s hoedown bash


The flatfoot dancers were so close, being nested just like spoons
One wrong move with steel-tipped shoes meant swellings like balloons
Twenty seven broken toes, they came from that melee
Several bedsheets they were used for bandages that day
    It’s hard remaining upright when you get pushed from the side
    So seven arms got broken, and several legs beside
    At least that thinned the crowd out, and nobody was dead
    Unlike the last time grandma had a hoedown in the shed


La Donna

© 2018 Lol Moran

La Donna was beautiful, attentive and dutiful
And her husband’s bank was full, of all she could need
La Donna was well set up, but she thought not quite enough
She wanted a bit of rough, who liked planting seed
    Nobody knew that she, was having a fling you see
    With handsome Giovanni, the gardener’s son
    ...So to his shed she’d stray, to have her wicked way
    And she’d go there every day, but it couldn’t go on

Tra la la, tra la la, tra la la la la la

Her husband Silvio, no saint himself, you know
One day he saw her go - down to the shed
He followed on, discreet, after his lady sweet,
Saw the two lovers meet, which did in his head
    He burst into the shed; his lady went bright red
    As he to the gardener said “I thought you were mine.”
    ...Giovanni, then he said, “You could just shoot us dead,
    In these cases I am led, to believe it’s just fine”

Tra la la, tra la la, tra la la la la la
Tra la la, tra la la, tra la la la la la

“But I have a better plan, and it could suit everyone
“We simply carry on, as we did before”
So now he’s still planting seed but no trowel does he need
Don Silvio at ten he’ll meet, (La) Donna at four
    (La) Donna’s still beautiful, attentive and dutiful
    (And) Don Silvio’s bank’s still full, of all she could need
    ...(La) Donna is well set up, and now she has quite enough
    But Giovanni finds it tough, all day planting seed.

    ...Giovanni finds it tough, all day planting seed.

Scandi Noir

© 2018 Lol Moran

Inspector Wallander was called out one day
To the scene of a death somewhere out Svarte way
A man topped himself from a beam in his shed
His poor wife had found him hanging there dead
    If it was a suicide, (as) it would appear
    In less than an hour Kurt would be out of here
    (But) this was a crook, one that Kurt knew quite well
    So old Kurt Wallander had doubts you could tell

(Kurt) saw something odd when he surveyed the scene
This was no suicide, as it first had seemed
You can’t hang yourself from a hook in your shed
When there’s a bullet hole right through your head
    The autopsy findings would shed much more light
    On how this old villain had met his end that night
    He’d had so much poison no horse could sustain
    (And) the wire noose had been wire-d up to the main

Kurt solved the case of the hanged man that day
Four of his enemies had queued up to kill him so they
Met and came up with a plan quite sublime
They’d each bump him off and all at the same time
    Poisoned and hanged, (electr)ocuted, and shot
    Each could take credit, which mattered (quite) a lot
    But what got them caught was that they’d been too keen
    (So) the webcam above them they just hadn’t seen

(So) now Kurt Wallander, a problem he found
With four villains banged up and one more in the ground
There were no more crooks, it was safe on the street
His job was in danger, his job was complete
    So he took retirement and passes his days
    (In) his local day centre where he often plays
    The odd game of Cluedo to keep his hand in
    (But his) friends all complain as they never can win
    ...Against Kurt Wallander you never could win

(Wallander was a series of Swedish crime novels by Henning Mankell which was made into both a British and a Swedish TV series, with Kenneth Branagh and Krister Henriksson playing Wallander)

Shed Yule

© 2017 L Moran
Edgar Smith was quiet as a mouse
A modest little man with a modest little house
Who had ambition but didn’t have the nous
For ever becoming noticed
    He wanted his house to be covered in lights
    As a way to brighten-up Christmas nights
    Though some people think there’s few naffer sights
    At least it gets you noticed

Ch   Edgar’s lights will be shining bright
Festive cheer all through the night
But on a smaller scale than some
Come to see them, please do come

Ed worked hard and he planned it right
But then he awoke with a start one night
He couldn’t do the job – he was scared of heights
And that would get him noticed
    So then a thought came into his head
    “Why don’t I just decorate the shed
    “I wouldn’t risk a fall and ending up dead
    “But it still would get me noticed”


(But alas, out of the)
cable to the shed a rat took a bite
Which did much more than giving him a fright
It took out the power to the shed and the lights
And sparkies need a few weeks’ notice
    So then he thought “Just think smaller, Ed
    “You’ve got a model railway in the shed
    “Illuminate a house on that instead
    “Duracell will get you noticed”


So that’s what he did at the end of the day
Folks came around and a quid they would pay
To see his tiny reindeer and sleigh
(Which) they’d need a lens to even notice
    But he got his wish and gained celebrity
    He was interviewed on breakfast TV
    And upstaged the interviewer so totally
    That Piers Morgan handed in his notice


Watch With Mother

© 2018 Lol Moran

Ch   Watch with Mother, sitting on her knee
Watch with Mother, black and white TV
Watch with Mother, from the BBC
That was high-tech telly back in nineteen-fifty-three

(On) Mondays for Picture Book, (we) needed glue and pen
Patricia Driscoll, she would tell us when
She left us for Sherwood, and riding through the glen,
Where she still got sticky, but with Robin’s merry men


(On) Tuesdays, (Andy) Pandy would chat up Looby-Loo
And there, playing gooseb’ry was silly Teddy too ( but)
Who knows (what) naughty things (they) might have found to do
If they could have only dodged him for an hour or two


Bill (and Ben) on Wen’sdays, (-they) both lived in a shed
Had plantpot bodies – and a plantpot head
They both aspired to spend (a) night in Little Weed’s big bed
Although her conversation skills were poor, it must be said


Rag Tag and Bobtail, on Thursdays (they) would show
The three little creatures would scurry to (and) fro
Glove puppets really, they thought we didn’t know
They couldn’t reach, or climb at all, or else a hand would show


The Woodentops (on) Fridays – you’d never call it slick
(If) you couldn’t see the strings you’d be needing a white stick
And Spotty Dog’s legs, well they didn’t move too quick
And rarely touched the ground, and that is quite a clever trick


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