ramblings and things

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After the Concert



Free Trade Hall, Manchester,
Venerable historic site,
The Watersons in Concert
So a very special night.
They came all back to Allan's flat,
Crowded, maybe twenty two or three
All playing musical instruments
Except old Hawkins and me.
They were all in harmonious discord.
Odd bad notes that jarred and lingered,
The beer having loosened control
Of the instruments they fingered.
Every body sang a solo
Until it was my turn
But making any form of music
Was more than I could ever learn;
So I sang them a song by me
While Alan tried to explain
How I never sang in key.
And Hawkins didn't bother
Just sat boozing there
Cursing those who tripped
Over his wheelchair
And the American folk singer
With the very famous name
Sang the next song
Of their folk singing game
And I called a taxi
‘cos it was pouring with rain
And me and Hawkins left
To go and catch our train
It was cold in the Guards Van
But in those days they didn't care
Nuisances in wheel chairs
Were just made to ride there
And we'd just got so tired
Of all those verbal fights
We had with the jobsworths
Trying to get him equal rights








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After the Concert