The downsides to aging ary many and one for an aging folkie is the number of songs you believe have been done to death. at age thirtyfive , far too long ago I was working on an arrangement of an 18th century ballad with among others an 18 year old banjoist who believed that he should do an instrumental solo mid story. we nearly came to splitting up and decided to call it a night. In another part of the club we came across a singer I hadn't seen since I was 18 and we had a few jars before we started naming all the ould shite we had had to sing in times gone by. We each could remember chunks of Home boys Home , Brennan on the Moor, The Leaving of Liverpool , The streets of London and so on. we sang for 4 hours, taking the piss out of dozens of the Old Hat numbers and I realised that my young banjoist was staring cold and sharp daggers at me . When i asked him what ailed him he said You Bastard you never told me you knew all those brilliant songs . He had never heard any of them they were a revelation to him. I suppose It's no harm giving some songs a rest its not the songs that irk but their repetition. That being said Molly Malone, The fields of Athenry, Dublin in the rare old Times could wait a few more years Though funnily enough I'd nearly welcome The Streets Of London back as an old friend. Sadly it has developed a new relevance