ramblings and things

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Open Mic Night

Open nights at The Crooked Billet
Just like a home from home
Nobody boos or barracks me
When I  mess up a poem.
I listen to Paul and Dan
And all who play the open mike;
The music flows along
Music that I like.
And if I know the words
Of any of the songs
I very very quietly
Try to sing along,
In my mind I'm a Pavarotti
A Sinatra or George Jones,
But sadly from my lips
Issues just tuneless moans.
To cover up this problem
Most of the time
I don't utter a sound
I just quietly mime.
When it comes to music
I have a serious disorder:
Eric Morecambe said it, Right
notes Not always in right order.
I wing it at The Billet
Every other Wednesday night
But at times it would be nice
To hit a single note just right.
Open nights at The Crooked Billet
Just like a home from home
Nobody boos or barracks me
When I  mess up a poem.


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Open Mic Night