The usual 'cookies' warning. More...


Front cover picture of

Our first album, "Sheds", was launched on 21st August 2018 at the Alehouse in Stratford-upon-Avon, at which we performed the whole album. The CD was being distributed in aid of The Shakespeare Hospice.

CD Tracks

1 The Arrival of the Queen of Shed A (instrumental)
2 The Caveman's Club
3 Geordie and the Spider
4 Watching the Stars
5 The Rakes of Milo
6 Menai Voices
7 Noah's Shed
8 The Bird Table
9 Monsieur Martin
10 My Mower Won't Go
11 Still Unpunished
12 Four Drunken Boxmen
13 Tanya's Cat
14 The Secret Shed
15 One Man and his Shed
16 The Tool Shed (instrumental medley)

Selected Lyrics


©2018 Lol Moran

A young stone-age man went to find him a mate
Club in his hand on the hunt for a date
Dressed in his Sunday best one-piece fur suit
He saw a good looker, went in hot pursuit
  He showed her his club which impressed her no end
  And dragged her to his cave where they became friends
  And they became lovers, her belly got fat
  Although they had no explanation for that

   Mammoths and sabre-toothed tigers lost out
   Whenever a stone-age man, he was about
   Although his own mate was a much harder foe
   When she’d got him cornered with nowhere to go

Now he had a mate his life started to change
She’d not let him go to the archery range
Or go out clubbing; he’d stay home with her
In a cave which had cushions just everywhere
  Having a mate had its benefits true
  But there were more things that he now couldn’t do
  Like leave things around and not put them away
  (But “It’s) just swings and roundabouts”, that’s all he’d say


So they became parents and life changed once more
His weight-lifting gear got thrown out of the door
The baby came first, and came second as well
So he’d get no peace for some time, he could tell
  Each year he would moan to his old drinking mate
  Whenever, again, she would say “I am late”
  So he knew another kid soon would appear
  One more to feed and to clip round the ear


As it got more crowded inside of that cave
He thought of a way for his sanity to save
He’d make a new place free from squabbles and noise
Somewhere to potter, to keep his boys’ toys
  (So with) branches and thatch, then he worked a whole day
  Cutting and tying and banging away
  He’d finished it well before going to bed
  Then proudly announced he’d invented the shed


  Mammoths and sabre-toothed tigers lost out
  Whenever a stone-age man, he was about
  Although his own mate was a much harder foe
  …'Til one man had a brainwave many cent’ries ago


©2018 Tony Beysens

I came home the other night, feeling drunk and sore
Things got worse, the lock’s been changed, my key won’t fit the door
My wife says I’’ a waster, a drunkard and a lout
But I’ve lived the life of Riley since the day she kicked me out

I used to go home to a bird who thought I was bad news
So I moved in with three others, I’d got nothing left to lose
I live with me pigeons, and think that I can tell
That they quite like my company, and diven’t mind the smell

There’s a spider lives there too, high up on the pine
I think he likes my company, we get along just fine
He spins and spins his sticky web with skill and dedication
To keep me free of bugs and flies and other infestation

    Me pigeons rest contented on the shelf above me head
    I’m just a Geordie waster, living in his shed

My shed’s mint, sound as a pound, and wired in to the mains
With a roof that keeps the whole thing dry, apart from when it rains
I play the blues, and drink and snooze, until the early hours
And do my best to skive and rest, conserving all my powers.

I drink straight from the bottle, when I go on the lash
Sitting on the front step like Geordie trailor-trash
I spend all night boozing, and cursing at the moon
And shouting “hey there, hinny bitch, bring out another broon”


I’m a picture of perfection, of that there is nee doubt
And when me tee-shirt’s dirty, I just turn it inside-out
Toon Army strip on Saturdays, I wear it win or lose
And a string vest in the summer, to show off my tattoos


But if you find me toes turned up, pale, stiff and dead
I’d like a Viking funeral, set fire to me shed
My missus she can strike the match and watch the red flames climb
Happy in the knowledge that she got me hot one time.



©2018 Lol Moran

Old Ivor Jenkins to Anglesey came
To a Welsh place with a very long name
Where its male voice choir he came to conduct
And rented a cottage as small as it looked
  And in the back garden there was a nice shed
  Too small for his choir but a thought filled his head
  A female-voice choir, if it were quite small
  Could practice in there and not need a large hall

    The Welsh love their singing, and they do it loud
    They’ll sing on their own, in a choir or a crowd
    They’ll sing in their bathrooms or down in a mine
    ...Or anywhere there’s not a “No Singing” sign

So at the men’s practice he outlined his plan
And asked if they knew any women who sang
“Women can’t sing” was the consensus view
“They just make beds, and make babies and stew”
  Well, this was in Anglesey, let’s not forget
  Equality still hadn’t got this far yet
  He took some persuading, to accept such a thing
  But one said he’d sound out some ladies to sing


So Ivor auditioned, (and) assembled his choir
But their first shed practice it was rather dire
Glynis Pugh’s voice was amazing but she
Could hardly be heard, singing inaudibly
  So like a Welsh version of Gareth Malone
  He gave her some coaching, just her, on her own
  And that did the trick their next practice went well
  And she would now sing out as clear as a bell


Glynis Pugh’s voice it got strong, it got loud
The choir it got famous; old Ivor was proud
And they were invited to (the) Royal Albert Hall
To sing for the Queen and her corgis and all
  But when at the climax of their final song
  Glynis Pugh’s high note alarmed the whole throng
  As shattering glass all around could be heard
  She’d gone from inaudible to quite absurd


    The Welsh love their singing, and they do it loud
    They’ll sing on their own, in a choir or a crowd
    ...But not for the Queen, as she now will decline
    ...They cracked her specs once, there’ll be no second time


©2018 Tony Beysens

Noah he built an ark, To save him from the flood
Thought maybe I’d do the same, I collected lots of wood
I got a bag of nails And a great big pot of glue
But the weatherman predicted drought The sky would stay deep blue

All the wood was in the way; I had to move it soon
So I thought I’d build a rocket ship, And fly it to the moon
I tried hard to get a plan, Went to Americay
The man from Nasa wasn’t kind He told me go away

I thought that I’d build one from scratch, And make him eat his words
I didn’t need a blueprint To take off like the birds
My flying hammer banged and banged, Like a drummer I once knew
And as the wood-pile lessened The rocket grew and grew


  I built a rocket ship; Sailed it to the stars
  I built a rocket ship;Next stop will be Mars
  When I see Venus, I’ll give Saturn a ring
  And when I pass Uranus, I’ll have seen everything

I felt tired but satisfied As I crawled into my bed
Till mother called me for my tea And asked, who built that shed?
I thought maybe ma’ didn’t know About space, and stars and stuff
'Cos she spent all day washing And baking green plum duff

So I covered the windows To prevent mis-understanding
And put a goldfish bowl on top To see where I’d be landing
Then I made it heatproof With a coat of white emulsion
But hadn’t given any thought To its means of propulsion


Should I pull it from the top And hope the roof held tight
Or push the thing from underneath With sticks of dynamite
The latter seemed the better plan; Forceful and more certain
But I’d wait till it got dark And folks had drawn their curtain


Then I lit the long blue fuse And quickly jumped inside
Strapped myself tight to the chair All ready for the ride
First things went quietThen a great big flash of light
Sent me flying upwards My shed had taken flight

It wasn’t quite like Noah’s ark With beasts from every land
I didn’t have much space on board But for that I’d planned
Instead of wolves and wildebeest As written in his log
I just took my hamster And Aunty Flo’s old dog


There’s a moral to this story; Give everything a try
Even if the experts say Go forth and multiply
You just must do what looks right As silly as it seems
You’ve got to be a little mad If you want to live your dreams



Lyrics ©2017 Lol Moran (Tune: "The Rakes of Mallow", trad.)

Milo Wilkins, though he wasn’t rich
He owned a fairly spacious shed in which
He kept the tools he’d never ditch
Including the rakes of Mi-lo

But one night some burglar, sneakily, he
Visited the shed withouta padlock key
And lots of stuff acquired for free
Including the rakes of Mi-lo

   Mi-lo reported it to the law
   Said that the thief pinched the lock furthermore
   They accused him of not having locked the door
   So exposing the rakes of Mi-lo

Mi-lo at this he was quite upset
A new set of tools would cost a lot to get
To lock the door he’d never forget
And risk losing all the rakes of Mi-lo

The whole affair made Mi-lo rather stressed
By the police he was somewhat unimpressed
No chance of finding his tools he guessed
Goodbye to the stolen rakes of Mi-lo

    The moral of this is plain to see
    The police they like murder, bank robbery
    But don’t have the time for burglary
    Of stuff like the rakes of Mi-lo


©2018 Lol Moran

I’d meet my sweetheart each Tuesday at eight
On my shed’s verandah, for our weekly date
Where we’d watch the moon and the stars happily
But one week she made a suggestion to me
  Why don’t we go dancing or out on the town
  Or go somewhere that I can wear a long gown
  Eating in restaurants and drinking in bars
  Might make a nice change from watching the stars

    Watching the stars, watching the stars
    It’s so romantic is watching the stars
    Sat with your sweetheart on a warm summer night
    Watching the stars is just pure delight

I said to my sweetheart, as she nibbled my ear
We’ve only been courtin’ for barely a year
We can do lots besides looking at stars
This telescope’s good – here, look, I can see Mars
  Let’s go inside, she said, it’s warm no doubt
  There’s a thick carpet, and space to stretch out
  We can do things in there we can’t outside
  And when she’d stopped speaking, I noticed she sighed


So we went inside, how excited I was
To show her my azimuth mounting of course
(On) my six-inch reflector which was standing by
I opened its roof hatch revealing the sky
  She was not impressed like I’d thought she would be
  She seemed to be clinging quite strongly to me
  So I then suggested a nice cup of tea
  And that did the trick, and so she let me be


My sweetheart got angry, quite why I don’t know
She put on her coat then off home she did go
She wouldn’t speak to me, make contact or phone
So on my verandah I now sit alone
  I’ve heard she goes dancing and dines out in style
  And has lots of boyfriends and they make her smile
  But her frantic life is too hectic for me
  With planets and stars I can live happily

    Watching the stars, watching the stars
    It’s so romantic is watching the stars
    Sat with my telescope every night
    Watching the stars is just pure delight

Back to top