I am a traveller, a travelling man And have wandered far and wide With nothing but the flip flops on my feet And fisherman’s trousers for a net. And during these travails and trials I Have heard many a tale, both tall and true, And one day in a distant field I heard talk Of a special cosmic law, another worldly rule of physic, A fifth or sixth sense or dimension, As earth-shattering as Newton’s apple. It is... A law of diminishing returns Operating particularly at music festivals. Let me explain. So far I’ve lost, My nice woolly zip up cardigan, half my contact lenses My bass drum pedal, (Though that might still be in the van) My wallet, containing money and cards, my baccy. I lost and then refound my filters 18 times throughout the day, Though each time they returned diminished in number, Two packs of bacon, lost to the public stomach, Three lighters, none of which were mine, My mind, last night, though I found it lying Outside my tent again in the morning sun, And fifteen lovely strangers, who turned out to be friends.