"She Loves You" (J. W. Lennon - J. P. McCartney) [Intro] Em She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah A7 She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah C G6 She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah [Verse 1] G Em You think you've lost your love Bm D Well I saw her yesterday G Em It's you she's thinking of Bm D And she told me what to say [Chorus] G She says she loves you Em And you know that can't be bad Cm Yes she loves you D And you know you should be glad [Verse 2] G Em She said you hurt her so Bm D She almost lost her mind G Em But now she says she knows Bm D You're not the hurting kind [Chorus] G She says she loves you Em And you know that can't be bad Cm Yes she loves you D And you know you should be glad [Post-chorus] Em She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah A7 She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah Cm N.C. With a love like that D G You know you should be glad [Verse 3] G Em You know it's up to you Bm D I think it's only fair G Em Pride can hurt you too Bm D Apologize to her [Chorus] G Because she loves you Em And you know that can't be bad Cm Yes she loves you D And you know you should be glad [Post-сhorus] Em She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah A7 She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah Cm N.C. With a love like that D G G/F# Em You know you should be glad [Coda] Cm N.C. With a love like that D7 G G/F# Em You know you should be glad Cm N.C. With a love like that D7 N.C. G G/F# You know you should ... be glad Em6 Yeah, yeah, yeah C G6 Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

It's been a hard day's night And I've been workin' like a dog It's been a hard day's night I should be sleepin' like a log But when I get home to you I find the things that you do Will make me feel alright You know I work all day To get you money to buy you things And it's worth it just to hear you say You're gonna give me everything So why on Earth should I moan? 'Cause when I get you alone You know I feel okay When I'm home Everything seems to be right When I'm home Feeling you holding me tight, tight, yeah It's been a hard day's night And I've been workin' like a dog It's been a hard day's night I should be sleepin' like a log But when I get home to you I find the things that you do Will make me feel alright, ow So why on Earth should I moan? 'Cause when I get you alone You know I feel okay When I'm home Everything seems to be right When I'm home Feeling you holding me tight, tight, yeah Oh, it's been a hard day's night And I've been workin' like a dog It's been a hard day's night I should be sleepin' like a log But when I get home to you I find the things that you do Will make me feel alright You know I feel alright You know I feel alright

Once upon a time there was darkness. The repeated hitting of a metallic object: at first without rhythm, then attaining rhyt2hm. A train-rhythmic bell- beat of hard docky places. “Beat music. Music of the beaten. Only we weren’t beaten. We beat. Where are we going fellers?” “To the top, Johnny, to the top.” “And where’s that fellers?” “To the toppermost of the poppermost.” The beat was seized from the heart of darkness and brought in chains down rivers of blood. It came back to haunt the harbours of Slave City. It was unloaded in the cargoes. It broke out of caverns and warehouses, out of steel and stone, off wharfs and docksides, out of ships from America. It scraped its feet across concrete. It ran wild in young bloods and cool cats in the corridors and cul-de-sacs of Liverpool... “We quarried the beat from metal and stone.” “We called ourselves the Quarrymen.” “We hammered it into life and shape.” “We called it - The Beat-alls.” When George joins, they start going places, like the Oasis Club Manchester. When Ringo joins, they start rocking the world. Whoops of joy in 4 part harmony. 3 cool cat choir. Cavernous drum. Great clunking guitar solos. A HAND FULL OF PERFECT NOTES. Holding hands that wash dishes, hands that cup faces. Hands flung at diamonds, hands ringed with dreams, shake-it-up baby faces, sweet little teens. Anything that you want. We. Can. Do! Peterborough "The exciting Beatles rock group quite frankly failed to excite me. The drummer apparently thought his job was to lead, not to provide rhythm. He made for too much noice and in their final number 'Twist and Shout' it sounded as if everyone was trying to make more noise than the others. In a more mellow mood, their 'A Tate of Honey' was much better and "Love Me Do' was tolerable. Abergavenny, Aston, Middlesborough, Newcastle, Leeds, Norwich, Great Yarmouth, London... “Doesn’t it worry you that teenagers are imitating you by wearing Beatle wigs?” They’re not imitating us because we don’t wear Beatle wigs. Paris... “John, the French haven’t made up their minds about the Beatles yet. What do you think of them?” “Oh, we like the Beatles. They’re gear.” New York, San Francisco, Sydney... Nice feller Sidney. Detroit…. “John, there is a Stamp Out The Beatles movement under way in Detroit. What you going to do about it?” “We have a plan to stamp out Detroit.” Dallas. "John aren't you ever afraid of getting shot." "More so in Dallas than other places..." Beatlepus Rex. The Fab Force. Conquering the planet. Saving the city. And getting the girl. Everywhere. For three screaming years... Even Nowhere.

I think I'm gonna be sad I think it's today, yeah The girl that's driving me mad Is going away She's got a ticket to ride She's got a ticket to ride She's got a ticket to ride But she don't care She said that living with me Is bringing her down, yeah She would never be free When I was around She's got a ticket to ride She's got a ticket to ride She's got a ticket to ride But she don't care I don't know why she's riding so high She ought to think twice She ought to do right by me Before she gets to saying goodbye She ought to think twice She ought to do right by me I think I'm gonna be sad I think it's today, yeah The girl that's driving me mad Is going away, yeah Ah, she's got a ticket to ride She's got a ticket to ride She's got a ticket to ride But she don't care I don't know why she's riding so high She ought to think twice She ought to do right by me Before she gets to saying goodbye She ought to think twice She ought to do right by me She said that living with me Is bringing her down, yeah She would never be free When I was around Ah, she's got a ticket to ride She's got a ticket to ride She's got a ticket to ride But she don't care My baby don't care My baby don't care My baby don't care My baby don't care My baby don't care My baby don't care

“We won the war- in 1966!” My Welsh mum beamed in the red-hatted sun, Commanding me to hoist The Flag upon Our council pebbledash, porch and privets, The Somerset exile in which she lived: And we'd all died, she piped, when that German Last ditch never-was-a-free-kick spun Off Cohen's knee and fell to tricksy Fritz. It was The Victor'snever ending tale Of under-doggéd gung-ho Beat-all Brits - Each Daily written off by Mother’s Mail - Moore, Peters, Hurst, Banks, Stiles, Charlton, Wilson, Cohen, Hunt, Ball, refashioned as Hendrix, A mini-short beauty born to die young.

Our Admiral’s head it has one eye Heave away! Heave away! His empty sleeve’s the flag we fly. ‘Tell my wife I’m killed,’ we say. He hunted polar bears, the lad Heave away! Heave away! ‘To fetch a white rug to my dad.’ ‘Tell my wife I’m killed,’ we say. Mosquitoes bit him half to death: Heave away! Heave away! ‘I’ll die a hero’s life instead’ ‘Tell my wife I’m killed,’ we say. Heave away Horatio’s boys Heave away! Heave away! Heave away and make a Victory noise We're gone tomorrow but we're here today. Off Corsica, his eye foresworn, Heave away! Heave away! ‘I got a little hurt this morn.’ ‘Tell my wife I’m killed,’ we say. Off Cape St Vincent, breaking ranks, Heave away! Heave away! He won the day and England’s thanks. ‘Tell my wife I’m killed,’ we say. Our king’s right hand at Santa Cruz; Heave away! Heave away! A night to seize; an arm to lose. ‘Tell my wife I’m killed,’ we say. Heave away Horatio’s boys Heave away! Heave away! Heave away and make a Victory noise We're gone tomorrow but we're here today. ‘A peerage or Westminster crypt!’ Heave away! Heave away! He sinks the French from here to Egypt ‘Tell my wife I’m killed,’ we say. ‘You’ll discontinue!’ flagged his Admiral. Heave away! Heave away! ‘My blind eye does not see your signal!’ ‘Tell my wife I’m killed,’ we say. ‘Redoubtable’ sharpshooters spy him Heave away! Heave away! ‘They’ve done for me at last. I’m dying.’ ‘Tell my wife I’m killed,’ we say. Heave away Horatio’s boys Heave away! Heave away! Heave away and make a Victory noise We're gone tomorrow but we're here today. Heave away Horatio’s boys Heave away! Heave away! Heave away and make a Victory noise We're heroes tomorrow but we're gone today.

E Bm F#m C#m F#7 Wednesday morning at five o'clock as the day begins F#m7/B B9 Silently closing her bedroom door F#m7/B B9 Leaving the note that she hoped would say more E Bm F#m C#m F#7 She goes downstairs to the kitchen clutching a handkerchief F#m7/B B9 Quietly turning the backdoor key F#m7/B B9 Stepping outside she is free [Chorus] E She (We gave her most of our lives.) E Is leaving (Sacrificed most of our lives.) E Bm6 Home (We gave her everything money could ^ ^ ^ C#m F#7 C#m F#7 She's leaving home after living alone for so many years buy [Verse] E Bm F#m C#m F#7 Father snores as his wife gets into her dressing gown, F#m7/B B9 Picks up the letter that's lying there. F#m7/B B9 Standing alone at the top of the stairs, E Bm F#m C#m F#7 She breaks down and cries to her husband "Daddy our baby's gone!" F#m7/B B9 Why would she treat us so thoughtlessly? F#m7/B B9 How could she do this to me? [Chorus] E She (We never thought of ourselves.) E Is leaving (Never a thought for ourselves.) E Bm6 Home (We struggled hard all our lives to get ^ ^ ^ C#m F#7 C#m F#7 She's leaving home after living alone for so many years by [Verse] E Bm F#m C#m F#7 Friday morning at nine o'clock she is far away F#m7/B B9 Waiting to keep the appointment she made F#m7/B B9 Meeting a man from the motor trade [Chorus] E She (What did we do that was wrong?) E Is having (We didn't know it was wrong.) E Bm6 Fun (Fun is the one thing that money can't C#m F#7 C#m F#7 Something inside that was always denied for so many years buy CODA C#m7 F# A E She's leaving home (bye bye)

See the cover now, through my NHS Lennonist lens. It captures the landmark moment they gave us the word and we finally heard. The gay colours; the sumptuous costumes; the irreverent majesty. The moment Cinders got to the ball and became Lucy. In the Sky. With Diamonds. The moment khaki became satin; Cassius Clay became Muhammad Ali; Van became the Man; frogs became princes; pumpkins turned to bubble cars; guitars became wands; school became art school; Satan became Santa; guns became flowers; Colonel Blimp’s lightning flash of manoeuvres above Salisbury Plain reflected in my bedroom window became the marmalade skies of Sergeant Pepper’s love Goons; the artiste/artisan became the artist; George Eastham became George Best; the Black GI wielding his Master’s axe became Jimi Hendrix; the Stone Age came in colours; Brian Epstein came as Maharishi Mahesh Yogi; the Hollies became King Midas (on their way to becoming Crosby, Stills, Nash and Jung); the Wurzels became Jeff Beck; the council estate got through the generation gap in the barbed wire and up up and into the Milky Way, heading like that “they think it’s all over, it is now” Geoff Hurst counter-attack over the Gates and into Heeeeeevennnnn!. We're Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band We hope you have enjoyed the show Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band We're sorry but it's time to go Sgt. Pepper's lonely, Sgt. Pepper's lonely Sgt. Pepper's lonely, Sgt. Pepper's lonely [Verse 2] Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band We'd like to thank you once again Sgt. Pepper's one and only Lonely Hearts Club Band It's getting very near the end Sgt. Pepper's lonely, Sgt. Pepper's lonely Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (Woo) And the spoof lyrics at the end He's Sergeant Spectre's lonely rubber soul A real McCoyntney Lennon lens Sergeant Spectre's lonely rubber soul The Beatles are his only friends. Sergeant Spectre's lonely rubber soul His sister's waving round the bend Sergeant Spectre's one and only lonely rubber soul She's never coming home again.

I am he as you are he as you are me And we are all together See how they run like pigs from a gun See how they fly I'm crying Sitting on a corn flake Waiting for the van to come Corporation T-shirt, stupid bloody Tuesday Man you've been a naughty boy You let your face grow long I am the egg man They are the egg men I am the walrus Goo goo g'joob Mister City policeman sitting Pretty little policemen in a row See how they fly like Lucy in the sky, see how they run I'm crying, I'm crying I'm crying, I'm crying Yellow matter custard Dripping from a dead dog's eye Crabalocker fishwife, pornographic priestess Boy, you've been a naughty girl, you let your knickers down I am the egg man They are the egg men I am the walrus Goo goo g'joob Sitting in an English garden Waiting for the sun If the sun don't come you get a tan From standing in the English rain I am the egg man (now good sir) They are the egg men (a poor man, made tame to fortune's blows) I am the walrus Goo goo g'joob, goo goo goo g'joob (good pity) Expert, texpert choking smokers Don't you think the joker laughs at you (ho ho ho, hee hee hee, hah hah hah) See how they smile like pigs in a sty, see how they snide I'm crying Semolina Pilchard Climbing up the Eiffel tower Elementary penguin singing Hare Krishna Man, you should have seen them kicking Edgar Allen Poe I am the egg man They are the egg men I am the walrus Goo goo g'joob, goo goo goo g'joob Goo goo g'joob, goo goo goo g'joob, goo Joob, joob, jooba Jooba, jooba, jooba Joob, jooba Joob, jooba Umpa, umpa, stick it up your jumper (jooba, jooba) Umpa, umpa, stick it up your jumper Everybody's got one (umpa, umpa) Everybody's got one (stick it up your jumper) Everybody's got one (umpa, umpa) Everybody's got one (stick it up your jumper) Everybody's got one (umpa, umpa) Everybody's got one (stick it up your jumper) Everybody's got one (umpa, umpa) Everybody's got one (stick it up your jumper) Everybody's got one (umpa, umpa) Everybody's got one (stick it up your jumper) Everybody's got one (umpa, umpa) (from 'King Lear') O untimely death I know thee well A serviceable villain, as duteous to the vices of thy mistress As badness would desire What, is is he dead? Sit you down, Father, rest you

I told you about Strawberry Fields You know the place where nothing is real Well, here's another place you can go Where everything flows Looking through the bent back tulips To see how the other half lives Looking through a glass onion I told you about the walrus and me, man You know that we're as close as can be, man Well, here's another clue for you all The walrus was Paul Standing on the cast iron shore, yeah Lady Madonna trying to make ends meet, yeah Looking through a glass onion Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah Looking through a glass onion I told you about the fool on the hill I tell you, man, he's living there still Well, here's another place you can be Listen to me Fixing a hole in the ocean Trying to make a dovetail joint, yeah Looking through a glass onion

Standing at the dock in Hunstanton Trying to get to Sheringham Sands The man at the back said You’ll need a big mac, It’s hissing down with rain on the strands. Crabs! You know it ain’t easy You know how hard it can be, The way things are going We’re going to Chelsea on Sea. Hired a boat to Burnham Upmarket Kensington on Overy Staithe. The nob with the beard said ‘Decidedly weird, The Chablis here don’t make any waves.’ Crabs! You know it ain’t easy. You know how hard it can be, The way things are going, We’re going to Chelsea on Sea. Saving up your money for a Cromer crab, Fish n chips au Hotel de Paris, I don't like the toffs but they know how to nosh It's the Wine and Duck at Stanner for me Lads! You can't sup the barley. (though you can in an exceptional year) It's strictly for the birds and the beasts. (good luck with the ghost village) But what's sauce for the gander, (down the bolt hole, what!) We’re going to Chelsea on Sea. (did you know that half of the people settled in Norfolk come from somewhere else) What's sauce for the gander, (Yeah and the other half are here on holiday) We’re going to Chelsea on Sea. (bye!)

Here come old flat top He come grooving up slowly He got joo joo eyeball He one holy roller He got hair down to his knee Got to be a joker he just do what he please He wear no shoe shine He got toe jam football He got monkey finger He shoot Coca-Cola He say I know you, you know me One thing I can tell you is you got to be free Come together, right now, over me He bag production He got walrus gumboot He got Ono sideboard He one spinal cracker He got feet down below his knee Hold you in his armchair you can feel his disease Come together, right now, over me He roller coaster He got early warning He got muddy water He one mojo filter He say, "one and one and one is three" Got to be good looking 'cause he's so hard to see Come together, right now, over me Oh Come together, yeah Come together, yeah Come together, yeah Come together, yeah Come together, yeah Come together, yeah Come together, yeah Oh Come together, yeah Come together, yeah

April 10, 1970. I am coming back from my hospital paper round at the end of Abbey Road, exhausted as usual. I look in that Mirror I deliver to most of the neighbours and the headline is something about the Beatles which always cheers me up but then I look again and it’s Paul’s ex-Beatle pout and the headline is PAUL QUITS THE BEATLES. * “A face as long as a coffin, James. What’s up?” I show her the paper. “Oh. So the dream is over.” “NO!” But she’s right. It’s the Seventies. A bucket of cold water over her Sixties bed. Paul’s lyrics stop meaning anything. John cuts off a decade of Beatle growth, gets a short, back and B sides, and stops being funny. England lose the World Cup. Wales never have it. Pan’s People become Legs and Co. The Stones emigrate. Legs disappear. The Mersey Sound and the Internationale become Standard English and National Service. Jesus Christ Superstar becomes Andrew Lloyd Weber. All You Need Is Love becomes The Me Decade. “If that’s what happens when we wake up, what’s the point? There’s no magic, no cuddle, no love, nothing. Cindy, the dream’s not over if we still want it.” “Oh spare me the Lennonisms, please! I’m not your Mother!” The news was full of it. “We can’t stay Boys forever. We gave you a three cool cat choir, great clunking guitar solos and a Cavernous drum. We gave you the perfect two minute pop-song. We gave you the perfect four minute rock movement. We gave you heart-winged mind games, melodic bass lines, backward drum fills, a hand full of perfect notes. We gave you The Inner Light Programme and the Get Back Home Service. We gave you intergalactic hippy tribute bands from Oldham. We gave you that Something you never realised you had. We gave you all those home-yearning bittersweet harmonies, that Apple-taste of a lost Eden. We gave you heart, mind, body and soul for ten years. You’ve got your telly and your own house and car and garage. Harold’s in his office. Ann Jones won Wimbledon. England won the World Cup. What more do you want?” And Cindy breaks down and cries. Because instead of all she ever wanted, and all he told us – with such aching conviction – was all we needed – Love… He. Is leaving. Her. To the Fabless 70s. Clutching a pair of Beatle nylons and the crumpled flowers of a dream. She cries for her lost innocence, her lost girlhood. She’s grown up with Him you see... At the end of Abbey Road was a crossroads. John turned left; Paul turned right; Ringo turned back and George...kept going. Still, the Walrus wasn’t quite dead. Lennon-McCartney wrote some of the most revolutionary music ever written. And the happiest. And, with Harrison, the loveliest. Love as a political liberation (“say the word and you’ll be free”), love as personal revelation (“the movement you need is on your shoulder”) love as a mystical force (“with our love we could save the world”.) It was the blissful fusion of opposites, counter-parts and unexpected wholes to fill the Albert Hall. Upbeat sad short-story Paul the most supreme melodist but downbeat poet rasping rocker John the composer of the great three part harmonies (This Boy; Yes It Is; Because.) George doing them both (and Frank Sinatra in the process) with Something. And, being Love’s music, it plays on from heart to heart, and each new generation catches it and sings along. It was rock n roll, the heartbeat of the Sixties, the catchiest art music ever. It did not set out to be Shakespeare. But then neither did Shakespeare. It was beat music with a Grammar School education. When Sinatra takes his trilby off to it – the “greatest love song” of his well fifty years – and he sang a few - you know they had that Something She didn’t even know She had until He Held Her Hand and told her. This incurable Beatlemaniac never stopped hoping Cindy would turn up at my door, just as I never stop hoping she'll come to one of these shows. (Not today.) But in the end (along with the love you take being equal to the love you make) I have learned to Let It Be. Johnny went West and Cindy went East and and maybe She ( and Love) is still there. The world is full of heartache but the radio is full of love songs. A blackbird sings in the madhouse grounds, heart overflowing in the evening quiet. Imagine it’s Eden because oh boy when that bird sings, it really is. The End

I am not sure if Love speaks more in the silence or my rage at the age's spirit of violence but in the echo of atlantic fury you fell silent new york exploding unholy smoke in your wide open heart and for a bad moment dear john i am lost again

Love, love, love Love, love, love Love, love, love There's nothing you can do that can't be done Nothing you can sing that can't be sung Nothing you can say, but you can learn how to play the game It's easy Nothing you can make that can't be made No one you can save that can't be saved Nothing you can do, but you can learn how to be you in time It's easy All you need is love All you need is love All you need is love, love Love is all you need Love, love, love Love, love, love Love, love, love All you need is love All you need is love All you need is love, love Love is all you need There's nothing you can know that isn't known Nothing you can see that isn't shown There's nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be It's easy All you need is love All you need is love All you need is love, love Love is all you need All you need is love (all together now) All you need is love (everybody) All you need is love, love Love is all you need Love is all you need (love is all you need) Love is all you need (love is all you need) Love is all you need (love is all you need) Love is all you need (love is all you need) Love is all you need (love is all you need) Love is all you need (love is all you need) Love is all you need (love is all you need) Love is all you need (love is all you need) Love is all you need (love is all you need) Love is all you need (love is all you need) Love is all you need (love is all you need) Love is all you need (love is all you need) Love is all you need (love is all you need) (Love is all you need) Yesterday (love is all you need) Whoa Love is all you need Love is all you need (oh yeah) Love is all you need (She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah) (She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah) (Love is all you need) (Love is all you need...) Oh yeah, all right Are you going to be in my dreams Tonight? And in the end The love you take Is equal to the love you make