My mysterious uncle,
He’s so mysterious
That no-one in our family knows his name,
But he remembers my birthday.
Nobody know who he’s related to,
But nevertheless, there he is,
At family occasions.
Is he a ghost, did we get him in the post,
Is he worldly wise, is he wearing a disguise?
Are we all hallucinating, is he a mirage,
Is he a criminal, at large?
What’s in his pipe?
It’s disgusting!
My Mysterious uncle,
Did he wander in off the street,
And sit down to Christmas dinner one year,
Without anybody noticing?
I’m starting to wonder,
If that’s even a real moustache,
And what’s he hiding behind his back,
Could it be sweeties?
He’s got a lovely car and it’s full of crumbs,
I’ve noticed he has massive thumbs,
He’s got a tweed jacket and tobacco in a packet,
He uses a guitar as a tennis racquet.
What’s in his pockets?
It’s digestives!
Inside his top hat there is a cat,
Inside the cat is a cricket bat,
Inside the bat is a man called Matt
Who is a window cleaner.
My mysterious uncle,
Maybe he’s a detective,
Sent to investigate our family
For a massive fraud.
My mysterious uncle,
He never speaks,
Just looks from side to side mysteriously,
Well, that’s alright by me.
I hope I never find out,
What my mysterious uncle is all about.
From time immemorial these musicians have stood at the gateway of nonsense begging peanuts. Spending most of their time
trapped in force fields and vortices, occasionally they are released to stalk the streets of Leeds. On such occasions you might hear the plaintive cry of Sam’s tuba, the mournful crow of Dean’s ukulele, the excited jazzy croaking of Bob’s piano or the purr of Matty’s drums....more
