I've got no interest in Cyril Tawney; I may join in the choruses with good cheer in singarounds (Ian McCulloch of Durham sings a splendid Oggie Man and I extemporised a fiddle accompaniment when of my Moorbrook Chums sang Sally F&E the other night) but otherwise they don't figure much in my paticular neck o' the Folk Woods (he says, thus summoning up Kiplingesque visions of night air cooling & badgers rolling at their ease etc. which is pretty much how I think of Folk to be honest; pure bucolia. If I want reality, there are far more exciting, and relevant, ways of getting it. I dare say this is why I find Dick's stuff so agreeable).