Unlucky for some, like any old night
Not too bad for me, technical problems
Notwithstanding, not with directional mikes
Myself, turning my head to do my strums
On the correct fret can lead to tantrums:
‘Hey! Where’s me voice gone?’ I was prone to think
As it vanished on all those occasions
My singing, if it was, was on the blink
And even worse, confined to just one drink
Not counting soft ones. Off them due to fright
That I might screw up. Technical problems
Came back to haunt, with echoes ring-ringing
Around the Blue Boar Blue Boar Boar. Oh Christ!
But new folk came, heard and stuck up their thumbs!
Fri 13 Mar 2009
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