The above cartoon, from  www.soapboxie.com. shows the great imbalance of wealth in the world, just one of the many ills we suffer from. They list four other main ones and go into some detail explaining them but I have expanded the list below:

Wealth and resource imbalances
Famine
Homelessness
Disease
War, revolution and terrorism
Major human migration
Natural disasters (often exacerbated by us)
Climate change
Obesity epidemic
Drugs and alcohol epidemic
Crime and corruption
Environmental pollution, damage and depletion
Natural resources running out

Of course, some of these could be considered multiple problems and there are others not mentioned. My song lyrics are flippant, sarcastic even, and don’t attempt to address any issues seriously. However, my long-term plan is to write another book which will deal with such problems – as well as some silly stuff as well.

WHAT’S WRONG WITH THE WORLD TODAY?

C: WHAT’S SO WRONG WITH THE WORLD TODAY?
WHY CAN’T WE GET IT RIGHT?
WE THINK WE HAVE ALL THE ANSWERS,
BUT WE STILL GET INTO A FIGHT –
FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT.

OUR MOTHERS AND OUR FATHERS,
WE THINK THEY’RE OUT OF DATE.
BUT SOON WE ARE JUST LIKE THEM,
DON’T HAVE SO LONG TO WAIT.

WE THINK WE’VE CLIMBED THE HIGHEST,
TO THE TOP OF THE MONKEY TREE,
THEN GO DO SOMETHING SO STUPID
YOU WONDER ‘BOUT OUR SANITY.

WE PUT OUR FAITH IN NUMBERS,
IN THAT OLD CASH MACHINE,
UNTIL THE DIGITS CRUMBLE,
THEN EVERYONE BEGINS TO SCREAM

NOW I DON’T NEED TO TELL YOU
ABOUT THE DAILY NEWS,
SO LET’S WATCH YOUTUBE KITTENS,
FORGET YOUR BIG WORLD BLUES.

MB © 2018

AT THE END OF THE DAY

One hundred years beyond the end game,
when our great cities are overgrown
with weeds, thorns, and other vegetation,
and things returned to how they were,
then wildlife will reclaim the landscape
and endangered species clamber back from the brink.
Our neat, regimented houses, offices and factories,
will disintegrate or become shelter
for bats, bears, badgers, rats, voles and foxes,
along with millions of birds, insects and reptiles.

One thousand years on,
little of what remains will be recognisable;
a concrete pile here or there,
and maybe some bleached plastic household items
washed up on a deserted beach.
Any inquisitive star traveller or alien archaeologist
may clear a patch of jungle and find the remains
of a railway station or shopping mall and wonder
what gods were worshipped here and by what strange creatures?

A little more digging and it may be realised
here was an extensive urban sprawl;
in fact, a world-wide megalopolis,
connected by a complex transport network.
But something must have gone wrong,
or why was it still not thriving?
Further investigation may detect residues
of noxious chemicals and gasses.
But, it seems, the Earth was not poisoned to death,
or blown to smithereens.

The only clue to its demise lay in the paws of skeletal remains
found in the tumble-down buildings.
Small black devices which, it appeared, were not tools or weapons,
but some form of mass communication.
Whatever data storage they once held had long since decayed and,
without written manuals or historical records,
it was hard to tell what had so mesmerised and ultimately,
transfixed these clever but doomed beings.
Then, an alien visitor, against all odds,
somehow manages to spark one gadget back into life.
For a brief second or two a screen flickers briefly with a blue symbol: F.

Oh, and a polystyrene cup, inscribed with a barely legible letter M.

https://soundcloud.com/mauricebaker-1

Tracey and Eddie (sorry about the lousy photo) performed at the book launch. Eddie also MC’d the event and read out a wonderful review – see below:

‘It’s a great and easy read with lots in it.  “A random collection” describes it well. To me this reflects Maurice’s quirky nature (meant in a nice way).

I have known Maurice for many years from the local music scene/busker’s circuit. Whenever I mention his name people smile. This is because when he performs he brings a smile to people’s faces. He is a very talented man playing a number of instruments, writing his own songs, and poems, and you never know what you are going to get with him. He does silly songs, often requiring audience participation to maybe make animal noises, bang out a beat, or sometimes just join in the chorus,

He does humorous songs which are always amusing, and he does serious songs written either from personal experience e.g. Bound for Australia re the child migration scheme, or written from researching something e.g. John Newton or St Sebastian.

As I said I have known Maurice for many years and I feel that I know him quite well. This is because of the content of his songs but also the often long rambling introductions he does which may or may not relate to the song about to be performed. We have all been there when he has done a long intro and finished with words like “but that’s got nothing to do with the song….”

Also he may well forget the words part way through a song and they are his own words to his own songs. But one of the lovely things about Maurice is he laughs a lot. He doesn’t take himself too seriously and laughs at himself. He is quite self-deprecating really.

So because of all this I felt that I knew Maurice quite well but when I read this book I got a much greater insight into the man – his character, his personality, his likes and dislikes, the things that he is passionate about, what jobs he has done (and there are loads of them) and how he reacts to people, situations and to life generally.
He writes about all sorts of mundane things and actually makes them interesting …. to a point anyway. A British cuppa, why you should have jam on all food, and what the hell is a ripe potato???

He wants people to buy his book (and/or cd together or separately) so I will not steal his thunder and divulge much from the book. What I will say is that as I kept reading it I kept seeing Maurice in different guises and this coincided with seeing him regularly at the Monkey on a Sunday night. . An example would be that, from the book. I know that he spent many years working as a builder. which is something I would never have put him down as. After reading this whenever I saw Maurice I imagined him with his keks halfway down his legs showing off a builder’s bum and him drinking tea with 4 sugars in it.

There are great stories from his childhood, his adolescence and then starting to make his way in the world. I won’t divulge any more but did find so much of this fascinating. I would recommend everyone to get this book and read it. It is light hearted, and mainly fun although he does tackle some serious issues as well.

The title of the book is “The key to a happy life”, well Maurice seems to have that key. He laughs a lot, he finds humour in everything, and this is reflected in the work he produces – his songs, poems and writing.
I hope you will be persuaded to buy Maurice’s book. He has put a lot of time, effort and research into it and probably money as well, and I hope that he gets enough sales to make it all worth it, but I suspect he would say that it was worth it because he achieved something that he wanted to do.’

https://soundcloud.com/mauricebaker-1

The book launch party was very successful – lots of good friends attended and sang brilliantly. The following book review was written by Ant Wilson who also attended but did not sing (though he has quite a repertoire of funny songs). The above photo was taken by Sofie from a distance and in poor light.

‘Just finished reading the latest book (and listening to the accompanying CD) by Maurice Baker, one of the finest songwriters not to get a number one in the hit parade. Maurice’s book titles The Key to a Happy Life (or, perhaps be the Key to a Hippy Life considering M’s adventures through those hazy years of dope, acid and free love). Maurice goes, maybe not full frontal but almost, with a candid reflection on life, loves, setbacks and successes. A quiet rebel with a passion for music fused in those heady days when folk exploded out of skiffle and you could wander down the local pub to watch the Rolling Stones playing the blues. Maurice, though not local by birth, is a Geordie in spirit. His energy, enthusiasm and his creativity make him a local hero to all aspiring songwriters and musicians and I can only encourage you to seek him out and buy a copy of his book and CD.’

Thanks Tony – much appreciated.

Threats, counter-threats and yet more threats of annihilation from political leaders – yet life goes on. Still, it’s a horrible fact that thousands die every year in wars, famines and natural disasters (often made worse by human environmental blunders). Though we complain about the weather, government, TV, traffic and many other things, we are mostly lucky to live in a relatively free, fair and peaceful place like the UK – at least we’re not being bombed out of our houses. And we can still, thankfully, protest (and sing silly songs).

ARMAGEDDON BLUES

WELCOME TO THE MADHOUSE HERE ON PLANET EARTH
HEADING FOR DESTRUCTION FOR ALL THAT WE ARE WORTH
DON’T WORRY IT REALLY AIN’T NO CRIME
GONNA GO DOWN FIGHTING TO THE END OF THE LINE

Chorus: AT ARMAGEDDON – ARMAGEDDON TIME

YOU CAN PLAY THE BANJO – THE FIDDLE OR THE FLUTE
OR JUST SHOOT YOUR MOUTH OFF AND SIT THERE LOOKING CUTE
DON’T WORRY – IF YOU JUST BOMB ALONG
TO SHOW APPRECIATION – AIN’T NO RIGHT OR WRONG

STRUM A UKULELE OR PICK AN OLD GUITAR
A WEAPON AT THE READY – ANYONE CAN BE A STAR
DON’T WORRY – IT’S YOUR KALASHNIKOV
A LITTLE HIGH EXPLOSIVE AND WE’LL ALL GO OFF

M8:
OOH OOH – BABY WE’RE A LONG TIME GONE
AND WHEN WE’RE SIX FEET UNDER
WE WON’T BE SINGING – WE WON’T BE SINGING
WE WON’T BE SINGING THIS SONG

SLAP BANK WALLOP RATTLE AND ROLL
EVERYTHING’S EXPLODING NEVER MIND THE DEATH TOLL
DON’T WORRY IF THIS IS THE END
WHEN WE GET DOWN TO HADES START ALL OVER AGAIN

YOU ASK WHAT IS THE REASON FOR LIVING ANYWAY
HERE AND GONE TOMORROW JUST TO MAKE A LITTLE HAY
DON’T WORRY IF WE’VE HARDLY BEGUN
SOON IT WILL BE OVER SO LET’S HAVE SOME FUN

The book/CD launch for ‘The Key To A Happy Life’ is booked for Fri. 20th April, 8.00pm, at the Blackfriars at Ouseburn, New Bridge St, NE12TQ. As many folk fans, players and audience, are invited to join in – free drink to anyone buying a CD or book.

Finally the book is on Amazon, print and ebook, after much trouble re-formatting the original pdf document to their template. In fact, it meant virtually re-editing twice – once for each format. Also, uploading to CDBaby was also a lengthy pain and not cheap either, unlike Amazon who instead take a hefty cut from each book sold. As with most creative businesses, it’s not the artists who make the money, unless they’re very lucky or have a best-seller. But, despite these downsides, I’ll probably use Amazon again since at least the process gives authors some control and a way to get your work out there – though you still have to publicize it, etc.

My book and CD, The Key To A Happy Life, are now both complete and should soon be available to buy on my website. Also, I hope, as an ebook and paperback on Amazon. The album should eventually be on Spotify too. I’m also planning a book launch in a month or so which will involve as many of my folkie friends as possible singing fun material in keeping with the theme.

It’s been a long slog – from last Easter when I began writing pieces, poems, articles, memoirs, etc, not planning at that time to put them into a book. Most of the initial material was written within a two week holiday to France – just anarchic scribbles really – but then re-written and extended, etc, on my return. I included song lyrics that seemed to fit, along with the stories behind them, which then encouraged me to make audio recordings. Rather than make just acoustic versions, I decided to use whatever enhanced the sound including electric keyboards and any instruments available. I wasn’t going to release these recordings but have since done so as a ‘demo disc’ because, I feel, they capture the mood, even if a little rough and ready. There is also another album (an EP) in the pipeline, Not Just A Silly Hat, which will just have four numbers on it – all about other singer-songwriters – Woody Guthrie, Lead Belly, John Newton and Richard Thompson.

One of my main problems now is marketing, since neither the book or album fall into a neat category. Maybe, some might say, it’s a self-indulgent exercise but it’s what I wanted and I’m very happy with the result. The only slight disappointment, as Sofie (my wife) pointed out to me this morning, is that it doesn’t offer any ‘key’. But ain’t that life? As it says in the book, it’s the search that matters.

Songs also free on: https://soundcloud.com/mauricebaker-1

Apparently, so many newspapers say, people are flushing unwanted terrapins down the loo – thinking they may harm the environment if released into the wild – but they are surviving the sewage system and arriving in the environment anyway. Of course, these cute little creatures grow up and get to dinner plate size (or bigger) and start eating local plants and animals but, since they have no natural predators, continue to multiply potentially causing havoc. Hence the warning not to dispose of terrapins down the toilet. What should you do? Take them to the RSPCA I suppose.

chorus:

PLEASE DON’T FLUSH, PLEASE DON’T FLUSH,
YOUR TERRAPINS DOWN THE LOO.
OR YOU MAY LIVE TO REGRET IT,
COS YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT THEY’LL DO.

verses:

GROW INTO GIANT NINJAS
IN THE SEWER OR THE DRAIN,
AND THEN YOUR FRIENDS AND NEIGHBOURS
WILL ALL BEGIN TO COMPLAIN.

THEY MAY LOOK SO VERY CUTE
IN YOUR AQUARIUM,
BUT OUT IN THE ENVIRONMENT
THEY’LL EAT UP EVERYONE.

THEY’LL SWIM INTO THE COUNTRY
THE RIVERS AND THE LAKES,
CONSUME ALL THE WILDLIFE
AND SO FOR GOODNESS SAKES.

UNTIL THEY GROW SO BIG AND STRONG
AND BID FOR WORLD DOMINATION
AND WE’LL HAVE TO CALL THE ARMY OUT
FOR TURTLE EXTERMINATION

To Listen: https://soundcloud.com/mauricebaker-1

The lyrics of the song below are not autobiographical – but could almost have been, as I discovered not long ago from digging into family history. It seems that sometime after our father died of TB in 1953, Mum seriously considered sending me and, possibly, my younger brother Paul, away under the Child Migration Scheme. This was operated by various charities but actively encouraged by the British Government and those of other Commonwealth countries, notably Canada, South Africa, New Zealand and Australia.

After we lost our Dad, Mum was also seriously ill and, unable to care for the family, the four of us were put into foster care. The youngest, Matthew, just two years old, was looked after in a children’s home; our sister, Lesley, taken in by neighbours; while Paul and I were fostered by a family living on a council estate a couple of miles away. However, as far as I was concerned, it could have been a hundred miles for, although our new home was reasonably comfortable, it seemed strange, nothing being said about why we were split from our family – not even what had happened to Mum and Dad.

When, after a few months, we were reunited it took us all some time to adjust and settle back into family life. Though, in truth, it was like starting from scratch. Since my parents married in 1943 they had constantly been on the move from one part of England to another and the most recent location, Thames Ditton, Surrey, was quite new to us. So, after we’d broken up and come back together again, the whole situation was unfamiliar and somewhat daunting.

Maybe Mum panicked or just still felt too run-down to cope with bringing up four lively kids alone in an alien place with very little income and no friends or other support network. Anyway, hearing about the possibility of easing her burden by sending one or two of us away to sunnier climes must have seemed an attractive idea at the time. And, of course, many others were also taking advantage of the Assisted Passage Scheme which, for only £10 per adult (kids went free) enabled thousands of Brits to start a new life in Australia or New Zealand. Given that life in the UK during the Fifties was still grim following the war (food rationing was only lifted in 1954) many welcomed the opportunity to start a new life. They were not to know that, on arrival, migrants were placed in basic hostels and the expected job opportunities were often not available.

However, there was a somewhat more sinister side to the Child Migration Scheme where, according to the Child Migrants Trust, ‘Between 1947 and 1967 up to 10,000 children were shipped to Australia. They were sent to populate a nation with what was called at the time “good white stock”.’ Apart from this racist motivation, ‘Parents weren’t told the truth. Their children lost their real identities and were told they were orphans going on holiday to a place where the sun always shines.’

When these children got to Australia they were also often very badly treated. ‘Those who suffered the harshest treatment were the boys sent to Bindoon, an isolated institution north of Perth. The Catholic Christian Brothers ran it – children built it. British children were forced to do hard labour until they were 16-years-old. Some of them had unimaginable abuse inflicted on them.’ What made it even worse was that the scheme was endorsed by the British Government, since it was cheaper to care for children in the colonies than at home in the UK, and that respected charities such as Barnardo’s, the Church of England, the Methodist Church, Catholic Church and the Salvation Armey played major roles.

I was not an orphan, but neither were many other children packed off to Australia for a ‘better life’. In some cases, as with our family, children were separated due to illness or financial circumstances and not told the truth. Neither had they any way to investigate their background and only found out they had siblings or parents alive some years later, helped by charities such as the Child Migrants Trust.

One important and life changing event I do recall, not long after our family was re-united, was a trip to see my paternal grandfather – though I only realised its significance recently. I remember the day well because it was so unusual to see the old man, who must have been in his late eighties, and because my mother took me on my own. He was, or seemed to me then, a genial eccentric, inhabiting a big ivy-clad house in the suburbs of Cambridge filled with antique furniture and bookcases packed with impenetrable tomes. He had been, in fact, a well-respected Professor of Mathematics (Henry Frederick Baker FRS, FRSE, 1866 – 1956) though I knew little about him until fairly recently.

Shown into his presence, the fragile old man was friendly, though perhaps a little uneasy talking to a young lad, asking the usual adult-kid questions about school, hobbies and ambitions, etc. I remember telling him I was interested in history for some unknown reason (I wasn’t) and he handed over a large grey book on British History which I never read. Something I said or did must have impressed him though because, I later discovered, he advised my mother not to send me to Australia.

BOUND FOR AUSTRALIA

WE ARE BOUND FOR AUSTRALIA IN THE MORNING
MY BROTHER AND SISTER AND I
ABOARD A BIG OCEAN LINER TRYING SO HARD NOT TO CRY
THEY SAY THE PLACE WE ARE GOING TO IS A FINE AND LUCKY LAND
IT’LL BE LIKE AN ENDLESS VACATION
OF SUNSHINE BLUE SEA AND GOLDEN SAND

BUT WHEN WE ARRIVED IN AUSTRALIA – MY BROTHER AND SISTER AND I
THEY SAID WE COULD NOT STAY TOGETHER
SO AGAIN WE WERE WAVING GOODBYE
AND I WAS TAKEN TO AN OUTBACK FARM – A PLACE OF HARDHIP AND TOIL
TO SLAVE AWAY MANY HOURS A DAY DIGGING THAT RED AUSSIE SOIL

AND SOMETIMES I WISHED I HAD NEVER BEEN BORN
WE WERE SORELY MISS-USED AND THAT’S FOR SURE
NO PROPER EDUCATION AND NO DECENT EXPLANATION
WAS IT ONLY CHEAP LABOUR WE WERE FOR?

AT LAST I AM LEAVING AUSTRALIA BOUND FOR OLD ENGLAND ALONE
TO DISCOVER THAT I WAS NO ORPHAN
WHEN TAKEN FROM MY FAMILY HOME
THEY CALLED IT CHILD MIGRATION A SYSTEM OF DISHONOUR AND SHAME
AND SHOWED THE COMMONWEALTH NATIONS
STILL PLAYED THAT OLD RACIST GAME

WHEN BOUND FOR AUSTRALIA IN THE MORNING
MY BROTHER AND SISTER AND I
ABOARD A BIG OCEAN LINER TRYING SO HARD NOT TO CRY
BUT NOW THE TEARS ARE A-TUMBLING DOWN
WHEN THINKING OF THE TIMES THAT ARE LOST
AND ALL THE THOUSANDS OF CHILDREN
SACRIFICED AT SUCH GREAT COST
BOUND FOR AUSTRALIA IN THE MORNING

MB  © 2018