King Henry's Tears

by The Saturday Morning Canasta Club

  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

    NOTE: the CD version of this album also includes a track called 'I've Just Seen a Face' which is not available from this store due to licensing issues. Check it out via CDs available here soon.

      £5 GBP  or more


  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    A CD with 16page booklet. This is King Henry's Tears as its meant to be enjoyed. The CD includes the version of I've Just Seen a Face, which for licensing reasons, we couldn't include on the Bandcamp download.. .

    Includes unlimited streaming of King Henry's Tears via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 3 days
    edition of 200 

      £7.50 GBP




released August 16, 2011

Jimmy and Andy Produced this album.
Andy mixed it.
DanDan at SoundSound mastered it for us.



all rights reserved
Track Name: One Way Home
Five bottles on the table;
four fag packs on the floor;
three bodies tangled on the floor,
too awkward to ignore.
One way home, one way home now.

Five letters sit un-opened,
Four texts you have ignored.
Three times I’ve stumbled to your house,
Two times I’ve knocked on the door –
One way home, One way home now,
One way home, One way home now.

Take me back, take me back, take me back.
I’m on the cliff ’s edge;
I’m at land’s end.
Take me back, take me back, take me back.
There’s no other road, there’s no other road.
Take me back, take me back, take me back.
That doesn’t lead to you, there’s no other way home.

Five lifetimes I sit waiting
for you to talk to me.
Three photo’s crumpled in the post
to show me what you’d seen.
One way home, one way home now,
one way home, one way home now.

There’s no getting around from you, there’s no getting away from you; there’s one way, there’s one way, there’s one way home.
Track Name: I'll Be Frank
I’ll be frank – no water left in your tank
to hydrate me, subsequently I’ll sip from the sea.

I’ll be frank – no money left in your bank to fund my sleep.
Naturally jealousies pursued those weak.
No gaps to claw. None at all.
Now the ice on your face has thawed.

Quote the king: “You belong amongst the fiends and amphetamines”.
You said to me: “Leave the witch to scratch her itch beyond the s*!@.”

Let her go, spiralling where no one knows.
She’ll be happy there, she’ll be happy there.
Track Name: Breathe
Empty matchbook...
cover shows a tiny bar not very far from here.
Numbers from a tiny girl who’s name’s not exactly clear.

Empty pockets – lovers take my shiny dimes every time they’re near.
A price to pay for drifting girls who’s names aren’t exactly clear.

But this ain’t no road song, this ain’t some ‘Lady Woe is Me’.
And this ain’t no blood song ‘bout my broken destiny. It’s just a chord, a note, a word or two that’re helpin’ me to breathe – oh they’re helpin’ me to breathe.

Empty wood frames
Photos pulled by angry hands, a different man from me.
Photos of her silhouette, who’s shape I still vaguely see.

Empty matchbook, candles light your tiny hands,
I could breathe with you.
Candles turn to waxen pools.
And breathin’s got harder to do,
When my eyes are open, when my eyes are closed.
When my heart was open, air just seemed to flow.
Track Name: A Market Town
A dozen came from Helmand,
driving through this market town.
A couple score from Kandahar,
finally homeward bound.

Linda from the bakery,
Fred’s construction crew,
joined a veteran’s bike club
to help them drive through.

Line up, line up for repatriation.
Line up, line up on their return
on the road to John Radcliffe’s – a trip that nobody wanted... a price too high to be counted.

Mothers; sisters; daughters;
fathers; brothers; sons
stand shoulder to shoulder to shoulder,
saluting favourite sons.
Track Name: These Strings
We started out so well.
You asked about my day and listened for an hour as I had my say.
Of house keys lost, a hurtful boss, a broken bus, a broken trust
and a not all together successful time away.

And you held me at the right times, the right amount of time.
And backed off when required and we shared a good bottle of wine.
In hikers boots and dancin’ shoes, a crowded bar, a night of stars
and a not all together successful time with time.

But these things, these things that you’ve been trying... all these strings you’re wrappin’ around me.
These strings that you’ve been tying and these things that you’ve been trying...
All these strings are pulling me away.

You’ve fallen while fighting some beast around me.
We struggled on through all of it, though I could never see
‘bout jealousies, ‘bout enemies, a strangers glance, a rumoured dance
and a not all together successful time with love.
Track Name: Sarah, Why?
Oh Sarah, Sarah in your eyes was the prize to be seized.
Oh Sarah, Sarah in your voice was the choice for me. And I took you like a hunter stalks a deer, or a miner seeks a seam of gold.
Oh Sarah... oh why?

Well Sarah, Sarah in your face is the trace of regret.
Oh Sarah, Sarah in your walk is the walk of the dead. Did I tell you that a hunter stalks a deer and a miner seeks a seam of gold for a thrill?

Oh why, why, why, why, why, why did you ever listen to me?
Did I ever give a reason, any season for you to believe That I could be good, that I’d be any other man than you see?
Oh why, why, why, why, why did you ever listen to me?

Oh women, women find the man that they can in my face.
Oh women, women make me things that they need to embrace
and they tell me that a woman can change me and a woman can alter my ways... over time.

Run, run, Sarah run – don’t ask why, just run for cover. Run, run, Sarah run – don’t ask why, just run for cover. Run, run, Sarah run – don’t ask why, just run for cover.
Oh Sarah, Sarah why?
Track Name: Millbank
Son, why are you sold to grow old in this mold?
I have followed those hollowed, left to swallow, bearing no clothes.

Father, I am yours – A well spoken Son, not yet broken one.
Stay here with me for five days, for five days.

I know a tale belonging to my woman set in rolling hills, home to a girl.
She’d seen the future – a plastic culture that we’ll nurture for our sons.

So she fled to the sea, walked in water up to her knees. She is home swimming in the sea, swimming in the sea.

She is united, quietly contented, afloat the sea, glaring at me.
Some say she’s waiting for her moment to join the waves, and wash us away.
So father I am yours.
A well-spoken son, trusted to break the sun.
Leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone.
Track Name: Footprints
Walk, walk, walkin’ slow – up and down the beach between the piers; between the dawn
and the comin’ of the strollers; the arrival of the rollers. And the long parade of footprints follow me this time towards a brand new day.

Swim, swim, swimmin’ slow – up and down the waves beyond the piers; beyond those thoughts
that wake me with their screaming;
that feed me to the demons.
And the long parade of footprints fadin’ in the sand point to a brand new day

Chorus: Sunshine, trite as it may sound,
is the one thing that I have ever found
for these demons chasing me around in my head.
And my footprints, dimples in the sand, tell me one thing – that I will make a stand against these demons chasing me around in my head.

Dry, dry, dryin’ off. Alive in my new skin
up on the pier, up in the crowds
that start seizin’ up their spaces-throwin’ towels on empty places.
And the long parade of footprints disappear in time on this brand new day.
Track Name: Floating With You
This rock’s heating up and the oil’s gonna stop.
A lot more mouths than crops.
So many platitudes, the multitudes of attitudes
around the problems that we got.

But I’m immune out of tune.
Happily marooned
in a bubble, free from trouble – just floating with you.

My boss just beat me up, said the weed’s gotta stop
a lot of days I don’t show up.
So many altercations defame my situations
around the problems that I’ve got.

Might come a time
when we’re gonna have to pay attention,
might come the day when we’re gonna have to face it all
but until that bubble bursts, I’ve got a burning, churning thirst to drift with you.

I just got a heating bill and the dog’s gotten ill:
Pot Noodle for another meal.
Lots of indications, extraordinary consternations
around the problems that we’ve got.
Track Name: King Henry's Tears
I am happy to be sad.
I’m happy to be left in the rain.
Too much sun would drive me mad, would give me little cause to complain.

I take comfort in a loss
I like a loss ‘cause it causes pain.
Steady love’s too high a cost; would give me a little cause to complain.

Chorus: Cleanse my soul with King Henry’s tears.
Walk the walk, with every single wife.
Free me through the crazy King Lear.
See the heavens with each unhappy life.
If there’s a heart to save – save it with tears.

I am happy with our life,
I’m happy to be made insane.
Yell and scream and kick and fight,
would give me major cause to complain.
Track Name: Time Was Kind Again
When you’re 14 years old, well time ain’t your friend. You spend all of your time wanting classes to end.
And June to begin and to grow a year older, so the boy in the corner might give you a call.

When you’re 30 years old, well time’s now your mate You spend all of your time willin’ clocks to run late.
Too much on your plate and, as a wife and a mother, fall tired in the corner hopin’ time would stand still.

Chorus: It’s time to think about time – ‘bout the wasting, ‘bout the spending and time flown by.
Times never ending. It’s time.

When you’re 50 years old, well time’s a bit deep.
You spend half of your time just beggin for sleep
and your children to keep safe, till they’re a year older but there in the corner of your mind, is time.

When you’re 80 years old, well time’s your best friend. You spend all of your time thinkin’ ‘bout all that’s been and how it might end - and as a grandmother...
one day after another... like time’s been kind again.
Track Name: 71 Hours to Monday (Global Remix)
I’m typin’ and skypin’ and altogether hypin’ a product I don’t understand.
Networkin’, and flirtin’ and positively certain that I’m about to get canned.
And I’m rottin’ in a cubicle, in a cubicle graveyard – boxed in an industrial park.
Dyin’ Monday through Thursday, waitin’ for Friday when my livin’ can start.

Chorus: And it’s 71 hours to Monday – don’t got a second to lose.
And it’s 71 hours to Monday, I’m going to spend them all with you.
And it’s 71 hours to Monday, I’m going to spend it all on booze –
gonna spend it well, gotta convince myself it’s worth goin’ around again.

Rolled over, hungover, stuck randomly in Dover with face planted deep in the sand.
It’s morning, they’re warning, with very loud fog horning that I should probably head back in land.
And I’m wakin’ up on Saturday, with some Saturday regrets – this weekend’s had a remarkable start. Dancin’ Friday, late Friday, dancin’ through Friday, then things got a bit dark.

Naamini hii fani na mimi na dhamini jumamosi moja mimi na wewe. Gogoni-motoni-moyoni mwako nazidi kutia miale mizito ya mahaba. Kwa upweke naamka kutoka kwa hili kaburi la maisha, bandani nilipo hifadhiwa. Peke yangu tena jumapili hii Nikihofia jumatatu ijayo Maskini kidogo niibamize hio saa.