I don't know how I could be so misunderstood. that was a feller named Giddings at the shindy on the houseboat on Lake union. I wasn't there. I was drinking that night at Herb's Northlake and the little fracas that arose had nothin to do with folk singin. There was somethin about a red headed woman in it. The only thing I ever raise at a hoot is my voice in what I call song and repeated calls for coffee. Oh, I may have called once or twice for beer and wine, but that was a while ago and forty years are forty years. Ah, but I was young then, young and male pattern stupid. You were so intent and focused that you were never young, while I am still young and still don't kow what I'll be when I grow up.
The rule I regard as very important is that it's rude to try to sing with your mouthful. It's perfectly acceptable to search the ceiling for words that seem to have gone walk-about, and I hold that rule not worth a fig that says that people who cannot sing well should shut up!