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This is a tale of a trip into the Dene;
New Year's gathering so O.P.E.N.ly obscene.
Planning a night of debaucherous mischief,
The glorious tale of which beggars belief.
Setting off on our way winding through the park;
Wind is rushing past us walking in the dark.
Less than an hour until it's time to start
Rocking like a bunch of retards.
Arrive at the quarry, no time for the mill...
Light up a fire so we can all chill,
Open a tinnie and try not to spill.
Woody's a-watching from his rocky sill.
Licking a stamp with no letter to stick it on;
Picking a log with a fire to burn it on;
Tripping a bit with a beer to help it on;
Light up a fattie, a smoke and then pass it on...

Party's kicking off and everybody's getting higher
Playin pints and droppin sticks to prove I'm not a liar
Knockin back a bottle of beer and dancing like a lunatic
Out here at the turn of a brand new year
Nay Auld aquaintance was forgot and replaced with a teal and an Oh Yeah! shot
We were off our fucking tits and we didnt even care
That our balls were frozen of and we had mud in our hair!
We dropped again about an hour along
And yes, that's right, Mr Wood had his bong;
We all had a toke and it all went awry
Gib spilled his beer and nearly started to cry!
We spoke to Triple C and he said how are you?
We said we were funky-D but we hadn't a clue.
We sat around the fire
and marvelled at a dance
in a trance
and then wandered off to play in the plants...

New Year in the dene and somewhere between
Reality and where we all should have been
If you could have seen OPEN or Queen
On this fair night you'd have picked OPEN

We went on a hunt for a little adventure
Through the undergrowth where we were not meant to.
Ventured to visit the little wee dark hut
Worried we'd find a big tramp with a stick
But the pathway was clear so we stopped for a breather.
Headed back via the tunnel; a reefer...
The chill in the air made the smoke go in deeper -
Walking like Hunter S Thompson on ether.
Back to the quarry to chill by the fire,
Feeeling like Frodo and chums in the Shire,
Floating back twenty feet just to enquire why we'd not brought a guitar amplifier
Wood trundled off for a while to admire,
Slipped broke his face but he failed to expire
Attempting to run up a slippery bank.
What the fuck was he thinking about?

Crazy motherfucker that he is,
But it doesnt really matter cos he is what he is
And we are what we are and we're having a gravy time.
Pity everything we were doing was a crime!
Dancing in and out of the pleasant greenery,
Climbing up trees and gazing at the scenery,
Looking at the sky for hours on end,
Talking to a flower like my best friend.
For me many of the hours are blurred and
I am positive the ruckus we created could be heard.
Our body temperature was rapidly dropping by a third...
Then something extraordinary occurred;
I saved French from the jaws of a serpent of epic proportions and his mind's contortions
We had a little walk and looked over the wall,
Saw the layout of the quarry and the fire and wood and gib and all i thought was...

Sun was coming up, it was time to skedaddle, not to paddle in the river
Got a shiver from my liver, the equivalent of opposite of standing still;
This was because we'd arrived at the mill!
I had a climb and I let out a squeal,
Then I stumbled on some drumsticks and I played on the wheel.
We made a lovely rhythm, then it started to rain -
I bid the wheel adieu and knew that we would meet again...

Sitting astride looking up at the trees,
Mouths are wide open and hands on our knees
Branches are crossing; our minds are still racing,
Sat awhile longer 'cos our feet were aching
Talking about the most ludicrous patterns-
Woodman was convinced he'd even seen Saturn
Looking like ink in a water decanter.
This observation brought frivolous banter.
Then we headed off and we passed the tree of shoes and a fella walking his dog looking quite bemused. What would you say if you saw a bunch of reprobates? The time is only half past eight. "Good morning how are you?" The odds are pretty slim but that's what he said, and those who were wearing tipped the cap on their head. We replied the affirmative, "A Happy New Year!". The fellow looked quite jovial; the dog didn't care.
If you'd seen the things we'd seen , you would turn on heels and scream.
Was it all a crazy dream?
New Year's Eve in Jesmond Dene.
One great night with Desmond Jene.
Drank some beer with Desmond Jene.
Smoked some green with Desmond Jene.
Who the fuck is Desmond Jene?


from FAT CLICKETY BASTARD E​.​P., released April 9, 2015




O.P.E.N. Newcastle Upon Tyne, UK

O.P.E.N. 's music will warp your fragile little mind. Rhythmic dexterity second to none... Described as "Intense and engaging" You will move erratically and enthusiastically, and probably laugh quite a lot.

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