I do so love the music though.

A BUMBLING ENGLISHMAN

There was a bumbling Englishman,
Ambition in him burning.
He'd seen all those 'Riverdancing' shows,
And he became determined.
He bought him a fiddle of great renown,
And it cost him lots of 'fivers'.
He vowed he play that fiddle too,
Just like Eileen Ivers.

He went and sold his guitar,
Sold his guitar, sold it to his big brother Andy.

Eileen could do no wrong in his eyes,
A star that would not tarnish.
He coated his fiddle in 'NITROMORS',
To get off all that varnish.
He painted that poor fiddle blue,
To initate his hero.
His lust and ambition you could not fault,
But his taste and talent was zero.

He went and sold his guitar,
Sold his guitar, sold it to his big brother Andy.

When he started scraping away,
People left the area.
He was quickly left all on his own,
Just like he had Malaria.
There was one tune, he was determined to play,
It was poor old 'Fanny Power'.
If she could have heard it the way he played,
She'd have prayed for her final hour.

He went and sold his guitar,
Sold his guitar, sold it to his big brother Andy.

Andy said if he carried on,
He'd take that fiddle and burn it
. So he thought he would cross the Irish Sea,
What better place to learn it?
Found himself lost in the North,
Without much rhyme nor reason.
Looking for a place to learn his tune,
In the middle of the marching season.

He went and sold his guitar,
Sold his guitar, sold it to his big brother Andy.

When he came to a barricade,
They'd let him go no further.
Did not notice the stony glares,
Intent on bloody murder.
He sat down to play his tune,
And he didn't need to say it.
A young lad took his whistle out,
And showed him how to play it.

He went and sold his guitar,
Sold his guitar, sold it to his big brother Andy.

An old man came from the other side,
He could not stand his scratching.
He stepped up smart and took his bow,
And now the notes were matching.
A flute joined in and started a reel
And then the dancing started.
He soon forgot his violin,
For his dancing was whole-hearted.

He went and sold his guitar,
Sold his guitar, sold it to his big brother Andy.

So many people played that day,
They'd forgotten why they came there.
Thanks to that bumbling Englishman,
It never was the same there.
They thought it was a good idea,
To send him where there was trouble.
For as soon as he started to play his tune,
They'd all leave at the double.

He went and sold his guitar,
Sold his guitar, sold it to his big brother Andy.

The moral of this tale is clear,
That when you've nearly lost it.
The very best ones to sort it out,
Are the very ones that caused it.
And where is the hero of our tale,
Who's not been heard of latterly.
When he's not peace-making for the U.N.
He's understudy for Michael Flatley.

He went and sold his guitar,
Sold his guitar, sold it to his big brother Andy.

Roger Gall 1999.(tonight)

kat

A Rambling Irishman

The above situation is one of the reasons I decided to try again here, as it was only a few short months ago that events arising from these issues made me and others feel that they did not want to continue to contribute to the Mudcat. To me, pretty much the worst thing you can do here is anything that may inhibit anyone else from contributing to the forum. The relatively few contributors to that thread do not reflect a lack of interest in the subject, more I would suggest that people do not feel safe enough to comment or ask questions.

It is also of some interest to me to see the effect that those few months have had on what was then topical song. The arrival of Peter Mandelson has put a whole new slant on the Bumbling Englishman (for his financial affairs were certainly a little bumbled). In also makes more sense of the last verse, where he changes his affections to Michael Flattely. I have no idea however, if he has ambitions to play the fiddle or if he can dance... We must be told.

To leave on a topical note. I see that the millennium bug has found it's way in to Gerry Adams car.