In the days when men grafted, on ships of the line,
Drinkin tottys and tellin' a yarn.
In the days when the farmers and labourers drank,
At harvests end, sat in the barn.
They sang songs of the era, with overall zest,
Told of tasks they performed every day.
All men were expected to sing t'would appear,
They all did because that was the way.

So Folk songs were born, they were sung then for free,
Some sung to achieve an ambition.
The better ones lasted for decades and more,
Folk singing became a 'tradition'.
There are those round still who would echo that cause,
To use Folk Clubs for all to take part.
But some now think only the best should perform,
I believe they are lacking in heart.

You see some on Mudcat, they spout from the head,
There manner is some times quite crass.
To them I would say stick your head 'tween your legs,
And as far as you can ………….


Couldn't think of a rhyme for the last line