Just been on a night out with Mawkin
You get tunes, tunes, tunes and no squawkin'
You should see them strings break
As they play Battered Hake
And the 'Worms shriek 'That's our tune, yer farkin'.....

Or,

Oxford Festival booked this band
'Twas Mawkin, finest in all the land
They went in search for a kebab van
Said Squeezy Spiers, 'I'm your man'
Through Oxford's moonlit streets they trod
Past dreaming spires and the book-filled Bod
Till at last they spied that kebab fella
Plying his trade of salmonella.
Alas poor Jamie got left behind
Alone with his fiddle in the rain and wind.
He strode off up the road to Woodstock
Thinking to find that window to knock
At the rear of the Half Moon pub.

Years have rolled on since this happened...

But the short version is, everyone found St Clements
And the session still plays on.

Any use Dave?