ramblings and things
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Friends
Mike Waterson, arguably one of the world's greatest folk singers and song writers, died recently. Yorkie born and Yorkie proud, for a few short years we were friends before life moved on. This was one of our nights out.
R.I.P. Mike.
There's thinking nights and drinking nights
And nights you hope will never end
When the world seems so safe and simple
There with tried and trusted friends.
Hawkins was just a little worried
How that night might end,
Just a little worried
About the welfare of his friends.
Old Hodson stood there singing
A sad old country song
And I'm sort of stood there
Just trying to sing along.
Mike is hanging from North Bridge
Commenting on the moonlight glow
Reflected in the water
Thirty feet or so below
Just a sort of pleasant evening
That gently unrolled along
I hoped he wouldn't fall
And the night all went wrong.
And then this policeman came
In those days they were tall
With muscles in their spit
And he wasn't amused at all.
And he asked what we were doing,
Asked what it was all about
And from down below the bridge
Mike yelled just hanging about.
He never batted an eyelid
As though he hadn't heard
Said don't be here when I come back
Or I'll be having a serious word.
So Mike deftly climbs back up
Brushing his jacket down
And we continue talking
As we walk on back to town
There's thinking nights and drinking nights
And nights you hope will never end
When the world seems so safe and simple
There with tried and trusted friends
R.I.P. Mike.
There's thinking nights and drinking nights
And nights you hope will never end
When the world seems so safe and simple
There with tried and trusted friends.
Hawkins was just a little worried
How that night might end,
Just a little worried
About the welfare of his friends.
Old Hodson stood there singing
A sad old country song
And I'm sort of stood there
Just trying to sing along.
Mike is hanging from North Bridge
Commenting on the moonlight glow
Reflected in the water
Thirty feet or so below
Just a sort of pleasant evening
That gently unrolled along
I hoped he wouldn't fall
And the night all went wrong.
And then this policeman came
In those days they were tall
With muscles in their spit
And he wasn't amused at all.
And he asked what we were doing,
Asked what it was all about
And from down below the bridge
Mike yelled just hanging about.
He never batted an eyelid
As though he hadn't heard
Said don't be here when I come back
Or I'll be having a serious word.
So Mike deftly climbs back up
Brushing his jacket down
And we continue talking
As we walk on back to town
There's thinking nights and drinking nights
And nights you hope will never end
When the world seems so safe and simple
There with tried and trusted friends
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Friends
Friends