GOING WRONG (©Words and Music by Paul F. Cowlan)

Dragged out of bed to visit Mevagissey with friends on a chilly March day in 1974, this song was the result. I still have a small bottle full of tiny glass shards; fragments of broken fishing floats, smoothed by the sea and gathered from the wet sand like jewels.


Sometimes when the clouds are low and rain is near at hand,
when my life is like a sea and death is like the land,
finding beads of coloured glass hidden in the sand
stops me from going wrong.

When the sun has fallen from a rainy winters day,
take the next tide to paradise, I will show you the way.
I have sung a hundred songs where the gods had feet of clay
to stop me from going wrong.

Stop me. Stop me. Stop me.

I have danced with you and walked with you and talked with you.
Rounding bubbles in the dark when we had nothing else to do.
But now the bubbles have all gone and soon you will be going too;

and I am going wrong.