Track 08
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Crackpot
Oddly enough this is the deathsong of our (once) trusty White Ambassador!
The fanbelt went driving crosscountry through Rajasthan. We limped to a 'garage' in a nearby town and sat drinking hot chai from sunbaked clay cups which were then ceremoniously smashed down onto a pile of debris by the roadside. Mr Kumar chatted about the deficiencies of our favourite chariot and spoke darkly of its imminent demise...
Someone disappeared off on a motorbike, reappearing an hour later with a serviceable new fanbelt and we were on our way again. On the way back to Delhi we agreed that we'd forgo the pleasures of the Ambassador in future and let him drive us in the Toyota instead (but that's another song...)
So quite why the song turned into a novelty foxtrot I have no idea. At least it gave the ukelele a first outing - and once again Jon Garvey came to the rescue with spot-on clarinet and tuba.
music by Martin Stirrup 2010
featuring Jon Garvey on clarinet and tuba!
Crackpot
G
Her pot is cracked, can’t fetch no water
A
Flat on her back, nobody caught her
D C# D7
She didn’t act like her daddy taught her
G C G C (Bb) G
A fact’s a fact her pot is cracked this time she’s gone
He’s shot his bolt, wasted his chances
Barely afloat, spent all his advances
Watch the neighbours gloat, see their sideways glances
Stupid dolt he’s shot his bolt this time he’s gone
C G
What can you say when your heart is breaking
A
That smell of burning rubber tells you
D
Your fan belt’s must be breaking
The goose is cooked there’ll be murder
No excuses brooked, she’ll be locked in purdah
It won’t be overlooked everybody heard her
She’s well in schtuck, the goose is cooked this time he’s gone
What can you do once those words are spoken
All that hiss and bubbling tells you
Your fan belt must be broken