The Sangster's Sang
If your looking for Tradition,
Tales o farmin', fechtin', fishin'
You could do far worse than listen,
to the story o' ma song
For I thought myself the smart lad,
Tuned my guitar down to DADGAD
Now my strings are ringing pure Trad,
An ma fingers can't go wrong.
But its quite a propositition,
Trying tae write a composition
In the spirit o' Tradition
When you've never tried before
So, I took a few wee forays
Intae Gaughan, and the Corries
And I must admit, my tune was ripped,
From Rabbie's 'Tak the Floor'
So I lookit for a story,
Some fine tale of our past glory,
Or a witty wee expose o' a daft Italian Prince,
But when I put pen to paper,
All my thoughts, they turn to vapour
My mind, wance like a rapier
Turns tae half a pun o mince
Now I looked back into history
Unravelled wan wee mystery
How a hunner folk songs seem to be of unrequited love
For in my quest for information,
Through repetitive recitation,
And frustrated desperation,
My true love, she ran off
But I returned undaunted,
To this tune that had me haunted
For now I knew I wanted
An air to win her back
But the search for this elusive rhyme
It swallows up a lot of time
In the absence of a doctor's line
My boss gave me the sack
In compositional obsession
I slipped into depression
Began attending sessions, and all that they entail
Now in alcoholic splendour
Took my guitar on a bender
Wrote love songs oh so tender
I knew I couldnae fail
By 3am I couldnae rest,
My melody I had to test,
Followed by my swift arrest
By my lover's window pane
And as I languished in my captor's cell
Resolved I'd use my song to tell
The dangers o Traditionell
So you'll no do the same
So if your looking for Tradition,
Tales o' fermin', fechtin', fishin',
It'll dae nae herm to listen
An' pay heed tae ma tale
For theres plenty penned a proper song,
Like Goulder, Watt and Henderson
But my Sangsters life, it can't go on
Its a condition o' ma bail.
Copyright Ranald Mackay 2010