(19th Feb 2018)
Fiddle & Drum we played
Beneath the barrel ceiling
In the side room at The Laurel Inn
At Robin Hood's Bay this evening
A passel of tunes and some craic
A bit of Trad Irish nonsense
Just two old mates having a laugh
Over a pint or two of toxins
No-one else in the room
They could hear us maybe next door
In the main room with the telly on
Waiting for some team to score
Some Jigs & Reels, a slow one or two
A few old songs or three
Yes, the craic tonight wasn't Hollywood
It was the usual documentary
The way we like it
The way we like it to be, so
The craic tonight
It is what it is, so
My pal Milo and I had our usual meet tonight - The 3rd Monday in the Month - in The Laurel, Robin Hood's Bay, WHITBY. Just to have a few hours playing a bit of nonsense and catching up on things. We talk about tunes & arrange them as Sets for later Gigs or bigger Sessions. It's what it is, so.
Forging such an image fascinates me,
See the page where the war of notes is finally won,
She becomes The Silver Spear rising through a blue sky.
Letting her heart soar, fingers released of all gravity
She reels in azure, drowning us in wordless phrases from a language
Catholic ancestors sing through shining faces,
Experimental and modern despite tradition's roar.
I am left to Imitate the stance of a boxer drinking at the bar
Struggling to hold on, to be the victory this moment is for.
Late on the road, later Saturday night,
A drunk going home like he's carrying a horse,
Like some Celtic Saint under a Celtic curse.
Played out, I know she lives where I can only ever dream
And am left to lay back on the bed
With a half smile playing out the battles being fought in me,
That of all lovers the flute is the one
Makes off with my soul, the flute is the one
Knows best a future I may yet become.
— The End —