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(Bob Clayton)

Back in 1967,
I was playing folk music and I thought it Heaven
The crowds were up and the barriers down,
And all us folkies went to town,
Making money, BIG money, just having fun.

Why, once I got $50 for only four hours playing in a bar!

But the scene got changed and the audience high,
As psychedelics filled the sky.
Folk got rocked and then got rolled,
As singer after singer up and sold ...
Out, that is. But not me.
I was pure... unstained... unsoiled... unemployed!

As the years went by, I went my way,
Playing just what I chose to play.
I met a few others of a similar bent,
Of unsullied soul and pure intent.
No popularity for us! Nosiree Bob!
Keep them filthy dollars away!

After all these years, this tiny group
Of purist snobs has begun to recoup.
A new folk circuit just sort of grew,
Till today, when, just between me and you,
We're popular again! The Folk Boom Lives!
All that's lacking is the audience.

So now as I play and sing, I plot
On how to strike while the iron's hot.
Soon I'll be in the chips again,
Making big-time money like I did back then.
Adulation! Crowds! Groupies!
Why, I might even get $75 for four hours playing in a bar!

Copyright Robert Clayton
@folkmusic @music @work
filename[ PUREFOLK

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