(Words and music: (c) Robin Hill except where stated)
"Grumblings and rumblings of what will be....."
A small selection of lyrics - some old, most new - for songs that haven't yet been organised into collections. More to follow .....
NB The lyrics appear below in no specific order. Sheet music and tabs will be included once the songs are added to collections - or earlier, on request, for anyone interested
RECENT PAGE HISTORY:
October 2025 / November 2025 - added lyrics for 4 new songs, removed any new lyrics now allocated to collections
August 2025 - added lyrics for 12 new songs
All words (and music) are copyrighted. Any adaptation or duplication without consent is a breach of copyright. Thank you for respecting this.
WHAT'S LEFT OF OUR DREAMS
(Words
and music: Robin Hill)
We paused to take stock of what’s left of our dreams,
In the dust and the rubble now strewn on the ground,
Or the moan of the wind, and the grey swirling sound
Of sneers at the sum of our schemes.
We paused to pick over the plans we once held,
Their shapeless ambitions now weathered away,
Remains left to ruin in lifeless decay,
Like oak trees now scattered and felled.
Failure tosses back its head,
And strikes a mocking pose,
Reminding us the price we had to pay
For all the things we might have said,
Or might have done, and those
We should have done, or in a different way.
We paused to search through what’s still left of our lives,
Through the blank desolation of all that has gone,
For that vague stirring spirit that dares to live on,
In the faint breath of hope that survives.
(Contents)
MEMORY MAN
(Words
and music: Robin Hill)
The memories now always in retreat,
Of smiles that glow with pleasure when they greet,
Or warmer needs he simply couldn’t meet;
The memories he can’t help but suppress,
Her cheekbones calling out for soft caress,
Or feelings that he couldn’t quite express;
The memories he’s always holding back,
The tracing of her fingers down his back,
Or responses that he simply couldn’t hack;
The unfulfilled desires that build a mountain,
And failures that will stem a river’s flow,
Bring questions of ‘Is this the way things are now?’,
Or where it is the kinder memories go;
The memories forever left behind,
Her body warm to his, their arms entwined,
Or tender words he simply couldn’t find.
(Contents)
BE KIND ENOUGH
(Words
and music: Robin Hill)
Maybe it just isn’t that important,
Irrelevant when set against the rest,
Bur darling, if you’re really going to leave me,
Be kind enough to leave me at my best.
I’m guessing it won’t really make much difference,
It won’t affect the way I feel inside,
Bur darling, if you really have to leave me,
Be kind enough to leave me with some pride.
I took your cold assertions where the blame lies,
I bore the constant slagging with your friends,
The jibes and haunts of satisfaction wanting,
But let me walk unscathed from how it ends.
I rode the Facebook flames, the taunts on Twitter,
The scathing words of never quite enough,
I gritted teeth through every call of failure,
But when I’ve gone, please free me from that stuff.
I’m sure it just won’t matter in the long run,
I’m certain things will turn out for the best,
But darling, when the time has come to leave me,
Be kind enough to put our time to rest.
(Contents)
SOMETHING TELLS ME
(Words
and music: Robin Hill)
Something tells me
The light will fade to grey,
Lost within a gathering sky,
As blue horizons slowly drift way,
And Summer learns to say goodbye;
Something tells me
The clouds are on their way,
Darkening as they roll by,
As yellow sunshine withers to decay,
And Summer turns to fade and die;
We were having such a good time,
We simply failed to see
That this was just a good time, nothing more;
And in our troubled ever afters,
The sorry likes of you and me
Must learn to live without what went before;
Something tells me
The rain is here to stay,
As, sodden where the puddles lie,
Two weary souls prepare to face the day,
And Summer yearns for times gone by.
(Contents)
TWELVE OVER THE EIGHT
(Instrumental
- music: Robin Hill)
(no lyric)
(Contents)
SUGGESTIONS
(Words
and music: Robin Hill)
As the twilight starts to creep across the room,
There’s a promise in her eyes
That seems to shine on through the gloom,
Suggestions that an evening once thought done
Can lead to so much more.
As the shadows start to lengthen on her face,
There’s a glow within her smile
That seems to hold throughout this space,
Suggestions of a path that just might lure
Beyond the hallway door.
Subtle shifts of thought,
Of could, and might, and ought,
Suggestions of the changing ways we feel
When days slip into night,
And moments just seem right,
And mere suggestions turn to something real.
As the dusk descends to stillness on the air,
There’s a whisper in her breathing
That will linger on the stair,
Suggestions of what lingers still elsewhere
Across the landing floor.
(Contents)
SUBSTANCE AND SAND
(Words
and music: Robin Hill)
All that you saw
Was all that was there,
And the world was all substance and sand,
Where everything else
Was just shapes in the air,
Invoked by some waft of your hand:
And lost behind that space,
The rainbows that you chase.
All that you knew
Was all that was real,
In a world that was substance and sand,
Where everything else
Was a cunning reveal
Of a world you just don’t understand:
And banished from that place,
The truths you couldn’t face.
All that you said
Was all you could say
In a world of self-parody, where
All that was substance
Or sand slipped away,
And truths just dissolved in the air:
And gone, without a trace,
The you that fell from grace.
(Contents)
HOW IT WAS BEFORE
(Words
and music: Robin Hill)
Once they were lovers, and still they make love;
But her eyes are now fixed on the ceiling above,
And his on the half open door -
It wasn’t like this before.
And when they lie back in the halves of the bed,
Each dwells on the things that were barely half said,
Which the other tries hard to ignore -
It wasn't like this before.
And sometimes, perhaps, in the dead of the night
There are shots that ring out, brief flashes of light,
Like the outbreak of some civil war -
That's not how it was before.
Yet there's nothing more pointless than wondering why,
More futile than wishing to somehow deny
The changes that neither foresaw,
When it wasn't like that before.
They still remain lovers, they’ll laugh and they’ll
smile,
They’ll even make love again once in a while,
But they’ll always accept what is sure -
That it wasn't like this before.
Accepting just one thing for sure,
That it wasn't like this before.
(Contents)
YET ANOTHER LAST GOODBYE
(Instrumental
- music: Robin Hill)
(no lyric)
(Contents)
WHEN THE MICE COME OUT TO PLAY
(Instrumental
- music: Robin Hill)
(no lyric)
(Contents)
DINNER FOR TWO, TAXI FOR ONE
(Words
and music: Robin Hill)
A notion that takes shape before the starter,
The subtle soft implanting of a seed,
From eyes that sparkle bright behind a soup spoon,
An inkling of just where this all might lead;
A vague idea that pesters through the main course,
From conversation’s slick and easy flow,
And head tossed laughter, brandishing two chopsticks,
A flash of how this evening might just go;
Dinner for two, taxi for one,
The stories that seek to confound,
Of glories that never quite made it,
Or courage just never quite found;
A stirring thought that lingers with the ice cream,
As inhibitions ease, and hopes pretend,
And licking lips play lightly on the pavlova,
A teasing glimpse of how tonight might end;
Reality that kicks in with the coffee,
The tempting smile, the laughter, like before,
A goodnight kiss, a hug, there in the lobby,
A cab for one that waits outside the door -
And ‘So long’ to a dear, dear, friend once more.
(Contents)
EBEGUILE
(Words
and music: Robin Hill)
She stood upon the beach
And held you with her haunting smile;
Just so out of reach,
The sweetness that was Ebeguile.
She walked along the sand
And beckoned, teasing all the while,
Just beyond your hand,
The vision that was Ebeguile.
She turned towards the sea,
Leaving you to reconcile
The haunting mystery
And beauty that was Ebeguile.
(Contents)
ONCE UPON A TIME
(Words
and music: Robin Hill)
Once upon a time,
Two longing souls connected,
With hearts that yearned to climb
To glory in the sky;
And spirits that surrendered
To soaring passion's swell,
Once upon a time,
Or once in a motel.
Once upon a time,
In precious stolen moments,
Their love remained sublime
With passions gliding high;
And when they chose to dare,
Their ardour kept them able,
Once upon a chair,
And once upon a table:
Once upon a time,
Then twice more on the table.
Once upon a time,
Reality found reason
And laid the paradigm
By which their love would die;
Where firm heads cautioned "Never"
And fond hearts whispered "Soon"
Once upon a time,
Now once in a blue moon.
(Contents)
WHEN SOMEONE'S BEEN EATING YOUR PORRIDGE
(Words
and music: Robin Hill)
When someone’s been trying your armchair,
It’s no great surprise you’re annoyed:
The telltale shapes in the cushions
That somebody’s ass has destroyed;
And despite all the awkward pretension,
There are subjects you cannot avoid.
When someone’s been tasting your porridge,
You feel you must take it to task:
The glaring spoon on the table,
Is something you cannot let pass;
And in spite of the need to be wary,
There are questions you really should ask.
When somebody’s slept on your pillow,
The thoughts can play havoc in your head:
The giveaway crumples and creases
That run down the length of the bed,
And despite all the tactful avoidance,
There are things that just need to be said.
(Contents)
ALL THE OLD I LOVE YOUS
(Words
and music: Robin Hill)
I hear it in your voice,
You’re holding back from crying,
Fighting off the tears
The way you do;
There’s little in my power,
But that won’t stop me trying
To reach across the distance
Out to you;
Yet when all’s said and done,
There’s nothing new to say,
Just all the old I love yous
A different way.
In moments such as these,
The gaps that lie between us,
Seem always just as daunting
Or as wide,
Yet as I gaze across
That bridge from here to Venus,
My arms still long to reach
The other side;
For in your hour of need,
What is there left to say,
Just all the old I love yous
The same old way.
(Contents)
FIRES
(Words
and music: Robin Hill)
Light a beacon on the hillside,
With flames that penetrate the night,
So I can fuel the expectation
Of dark that yields to shining light,
And spark the fires of how I yearn for you.
Place a candle in the window,
A lamp of welcome, shining clear,
So I can fix my destination,
Called by refuge drawing near,
Enthralled by fires that light each turn to you.
Lay the logs and light the fire,
Stoke the coals, ignite the roar,
So I can glow in contemplation,
Invite the arms that reach once more,
Ignite the fires that roar and burn for you.
(Contents)
GODS AND STARS
(Words
and music: Robin Hill)
In books of gods and stars,
We savoured every gain,
Whilst brushing off the scars
Incurred through deeds of pain,
Our glinting scimitars
Held high again.
In rugged tales of war
And acts of derring do,
We kept heroic store
In sagas old and new,
A treasured hall of lore
Of foes we slew.
In sagas that we built
On blade and steely knife,
The dead gave up no guilt,
The living gave no life,
In books of blood that spilt
In name of strife.
(Contents)
THE EARLY MORNING SONG
(Words
and music: Robin Hill)
The usual creep of early morning light,
A shapeless time projected on a ceiling overhead,
A radio that reassures from somewhere out of sight,
And yet, within this hung and musty head,
A sense of something else besides, that’s missing from the
bed.
The usual rush of early morning shower,
Hot water over shoulder blades, a reaching for the soap,
A lathered shave, a slow return former mental power,
Yet nagging through the new found rush of hope,
A feeling something’s not quite there, still lost within the
hour.
The usual early morning breakfast scene,
The loading of a toaster, the hunt for marmalade,
A rummage through the fridge to find a tub of margarine,
A hurried slurp of coffee freshly made;
And through the many pauses in between,
The silent sound of something more, of simply might have been.
(Contents)
CHANCE ENCOUNTERS?
(Words
and music: Robin Hill)
Just one more random chance they meet at Chez Vous,
Another time they stay alert, aware,
Furtive sideways glances in the lobby,
Rehearsing how they happen to be there;
Just one more sidled visit to reception,
The other keeping watch from just ahead,
The always wary steps towards to the stairwell,
The other wise to take the lift instead;
Still ever more excuses at the ready,
Flimsy tales of why, or just what for,
A sense of dread that keeps them ever guarded,
Nervous, down that last long corridor:
Then all is well, now safe behind a door,
Where guard can fall with clothing to the floor,
And needs and wants can give full vent once more;
Just one more chance event an hour later,
From lift and stairwell, happening to meet,
The merest nod at such a brief encounter,
Then off in separate ways along the street.
(Contents)
THE SPIRIT THAT WAS YOU Part 1
(Words
and music: Robin Hill)
Beyond the shapeless fall of night,
Where shining passion, once so bright,
Descends to nothing, slips from sight;
Or at the first full blush of day,
From hopes that used to tease and play,
The spirit that was you drifts clean away.
What became of the sparkle in your eyes,
That vibrancy we used to recognise
Before you took this lustreless disguise?
What became of the radiance in your face,
That vividness that lit up every space,
Before this sadness covered every trace?
Within the swirling mists of sleep,
Where dreams encircle, shadows creep,
The spirit that was you still slumbers deep.
(Contents)
THE SPIRIT THAT WAS YOU Part 2
(Words
and music: Robin Hill)
From where the morning light once shone,
Those dark-eyed demons have all gone,
And the spirit that was you
Still sparkles on.
(Contents)
ANYMORE
(Words
and music: Robin Hill)
Remember all that anguish
That one day you would leave and slam the door?
Well, I don’t have that anguish anymore;
Remember all the torment
That one day I would lose what I lived for?
Well, I don’t have that torment anymore;
A history full of things that never happened,
A catalogue of stuff that never should,
A past so full of things that might have mattered,
A future full of things that no more could.
Remember all the worry
Of can’t go ons, goodbyes for evermore?
Well, I don’t have to worry anymore.
(Contents)
LES ERREURS DE L'AMOUR
(Words
and music: Robin Hill)
My love is wired and yellow,
And two by four by three:
While yours is taut and stripey,
And means such world to me.
My kiss is bright and dimpled,
Triangular by name,
Your own is round and handled,
Yet well felt all the same.
This may not come out perfect,
Some errors here and there,
Categories and meanings
Left dingled in the air;
But love is what a feeling,
Translation doesn’t care,
And when it’s you, my ankle is to share.
My dictionary is towselled,
Its entries arched askew,
Their definitions muzzled,
Yet picked out kind for you.
This song is pied and porous,
The lyrics flanged above,
Their inner tube left footed,
Yet wrote out right with love.
(Contents)
SIXTY YEARS
(Words
and music: Robin Hill)
Sixty years a soldier,
Of bravery inspired,
Sixty years a hero,
Respected and admired;
Sixty years a trooper,
No medals for his pains,
Just sixty years of bearing
The losses and the gains;
Sixty years a fighter,
Battles scars displayed,
From sixty years and counting
Of sacrifices made;
Sixty years a veteran,
His body lashed and sore,
Now sixty years, and wondering
Just what it all was for;
Sixty years a martyr,
Who answered every shout,
For sixty years, but thinking
He’ll sit the next one out.
(Contents)
REFLECTIONS
(Words
and music: Robin Hill)
Stop, and take a drink,
A moment’s rest beside the pool,
To kill your thirst, or wipe your brow of sweat;
And there, distorted by the flow,
Just tell me what you see below,
Still indistinct, a swirl of grey,
The detail blurred by stones and clay,
Yet still a form you might just recognise:
A form that nags of terrors
From somewhere long ago,
Terrors you could never quite let go:
And through the clouded ripples
On shapeless clay and stone,
The reflection in the water is -
Is your own.
Pause, take time to think,
There through the glass, this no-one’s fool,
Unfazed by what he hasn’t figured yet,
And peering through the mask you’ve donned,
Just tell me what you see beyond:
A puzzled mix of staring face
And clear cut features, out of place
When masked behind such tenuous disguise:
A face that tells of errors,
From somewhere in the past,
That never quite got laid to rest at last:
And for all the proud denial,
Or wishing it untrue,
The reflection in the mirror is -
Is of who?
(Contents)
THE SWEETEST GOODNIGHT
(Words
and music: Robin Hill)
There’s a presence here between us,
I can sense it drawing near,
Like a whisper of a rumour
Of a secret, still unclear,
Of something quite profound that’s stirring here;
Must it always be like this,
The pull of some alluring kiss,
The teasing hint of bodies closing tight,
Of hands that reach and clasp
At something just within their grasp:
Then empty air, the sweetest ‘So, goodnight.’
There’s a faint but growing heartbeat,
I can sense its pump and sway,
Like the rise within an ocean
Of a swell of heady spray,
Exhilaration, just a gasp away;
Must it always be this way,
The mocking games that passions play,
The soaring of desires that lead us on,
The urgent need to feel
That here at last is something real:
Then stone-cold truth, the loveliest ‘Well, so long.’.
(Contents)
OLD DESIRES
(Words
and music: Robin Hill)
In the quietness of an evening
When the fury’s all but gone,
The louder echoes fade away,
But playful memories whisper on,
As long gone loves and passions,
Like old extinguished fires,
Stir within their embers
To teasing shapes of old desires;
In the stillness of your memories,
Where a sadness used to lie,
A quieter mood uncovers
A sense of calm, of life passed by,
And furrows of old failings
That used to line your brow,
Have weathered with a lifetime
To old desires still smiling now.
(Contents)
CUPBOARD
(Words
and music: Robin Hill)
I thought I'd go upstairs
And hide inside a cupboard,
But I was scared you might not even try to find me there.
I thought I'd run away
And maybe join the circus,
But I was scared you wouldn’t try to trace me anywhere.
I thought I'd pack my bags
And finally get to leave you,
But I was scared that, all in all, you simply wouldn't care.
(Contents)