Folkie (Rick Bower) Oh I am a folk musician, though my songs are seldom sold 'Cause I massacre the music with three feet of Spanish chipboard and a capo I do requests; Just the ones that got three chords and then I disregard the rest And when Dylan dies I'll maybe be the best Seeking free beer and expenses I come looking for a job But I never get no offers-- Just a come on from some groupie in lower Sackville (down on 6th St.) I do declare-- I've had problems with my sex life since I fell and broke my wrist And my other songs are just as bad as this. Li li li...etc. Oh, I've sung the folk tradition with my finger in my ear 'Cause half the stuff I'm singing, I just can't bear to hear, But I'm an artist Bar after bar To the strumming of a clamp-totaled beat up five string Kaytell guitar. In Portland town one night I clean forgot the second verse (At Chicago House) So I sang the 27th twice as loud and in reverse, and no one noticed I took a bow And a long look at my wrist watch; made some faces at the crowd. Li li li...etc. On the stage I stand so bravely, for a folkie is my trade And I carry the reminder of every gig I ever played, like at the Legion (Outhouse) I fled in fear With the imprint of a Moosehead bottle stamped behind my ear (Shiner) And a voice that yelled, "Don't play that shit in here!" Li li li...etc. Oh I've got my act together now; I've got it figured out, Dropping hairballs of string rosin, mainlinin' on the stout And having hangups. Pick up my guitar, play in vain But they are leaving, they are leaving, and the folkie still remains In this crummy bar to sing one last refrain. Li li li...ad naseum. (other and/or variant verses) Oh, I've sang the folk tradition with me finger in me ear, And I've massacred folk music with a yard of German plywood and a capo... I'm like the rest, I sing the ones that's got two chords in and I disregard the rest. With Bert Weedon's help, one day I'll be the best. Li li li etc. I'm called Lead Fingers Wedlock and my story's seldom told I massacre folk music with a yard of German plywood and a capo I do requests Just the ones that got two chords in and I disregard the rest When <your favorite folksinger's name here> dies someday I'll be the best. Asking 20 plus expenses I went looking for a gig but I got no offers Just a come-on from a groupie down in <your town here> I do declare I was feeling rather horny so I had her then and there Heh, heh, heh, ho, ho, ho, ha, ha, ha! I have sung the folk tradition with my finger in my ear Cause half the tripe I'm singing, I just can't bear to hear It's a load of cobblers Bar after bar To the rhythm of an off-key British one-string thatched guitar La-la-la, la-la-la, la-la-la. In "Sir Patrick Spens" I clean forgot the forty-second verse So I sang the twenty-seventh, twice as loud and in reverse And no one noticed I laughed for hours The tears ran down my trousers, I thought I'd wet my drawers La-la-la, la-la-la, la-la-la. Note: The song is a real crowd pleaser, I've found. I like to use it as a set opener. DS DS, WT et al
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!