I rather enjoyed that thought too - I wrote the 'Lament' in 1984 in the Dickens Inn, in sight of Tower Bridge. We had to wait (a shanty group I was with there) in a pub with no beer (outside licensing hours) between two gigs, the first of which had evaporated at the last minute. So what else was there to do? It was a pretty ragged scrap of paper I wrote it on, too, thugh it did not come from the roll.

I don't know if 20 years qualifies as ages, but now I have picture of myself sitting by some castle fire, combing my silvery locks, tuning my harp, and talking of some great minstrel of the past. "Him!" I would be saying "The varlet stole all my songs".

Perhaps there is a song in there somewhere...