Song: The Comic Life Poem by Dave SmithWhite

As ever I draw so clearly,
A vision so brave, so nearly;
Forever I'm touched and feely
With illusory control.
If ever I'm timid or teary,
When it all gets weird and eerie,
You just unfurl your wild
And cheery soul.

We get on! We get on!
The grey beard and the swan;
Our craning necks are longer
In the swoon.
We get on! We get on!
We jam and jazz along.
We sing our special song,
In tune.

We get on! We get on!
For together, we belong;
Wherever light is shone,
And lovers croon.
We get on! We get on!
As fear and doubts abscond,
The artist will respond
And cast the rune.

Wherever we frame the melee,
It's the underside or belly.
The beast that eats its children,
Is the real news at noon.
However you spread the jelly,
When smeared across the telly;
This desert of taste's a sandhill
Short of dune.

We get on! We get on!
Our comic line is strong;
Reducing worlds of violence
To cartoon.
We get on! We get on!
We right what we see wrong.
And offer pearls of wisdom
By balloon.

We get on! We get on!
We become our own icons;
A temple in this jungle
Of baboons.
We get on! We get on!
Buffoons like everyone;
We fall about the room,
And lick our wounds.

As ever I sketch so freely,
With hardened eyes, so steely,
I etch the burnished stele,
And calligraphy of love.
Each single cell of being,
The finger strokes and keying
Will animate the seeing through
The fog and blog above.

We get on! We get on!
And I love the hurry on.
Your eyes could fire the sun
Or moon.
We get on! We get on!
We plot the dreams beyond,
The smoke and mirror
Bending of the spoon.

From a Laden's cave, a genie,
Escapes into the scenery,
As shadows play Felleni
And the damned Satyricon.
In fashion, numb and dreamy,
With passion, hot and steamy,
You come and you redeem me
By your leave to carry on.

We get on! We get on!
Forget the one night con.
A stand of scam foundations,
No sand we set upon.
We get on! We get on!
You cleave my magic wand.
Full joy to us, is coitus, as
We renew our bond.

We get on! We get on!
And gild the lily's frond.
Truth is but a fiction
For the feeble and the fond.
We get on! We get on!
And build our lives anon;
Amongst the teeming millions
And the minions in the pond.

From pole to pole. World-weary.
When it all gets cold and dreary;
We're all revolving planets,
On the epic scale of love.
To future shocks, I'm leery.
By nature: scoff and jeery.
I waltz with chaos theory,
Beyond the pale above.

We get on! We get on!
Of pasty face and wan;
We dance a little shuffle
And cocoon.
We get on! We get on!
The mourning clothes we don,
Confirm that life is gone
From us too soon.