Perfect folk club in the sky

from by Harvey Andrews

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lyrics

Oh, we'll sing the Jug o’ Punch
We'll sing The Last Thing On My Mind
John o’ Dreams and Scarborough Fair
And every hour we'll find
Someone, somewhere's singing The Wild Mountain Thyme
When we reach that perfect folk club in the sky

The door is always open
Entry's always free
But artists still get paid lots more
Than just the fee
And everyone who enters buys the new CD
When we reach that perfect folk club in the sky

Singers given one song
Never try for two
No instruments need tuning
They all stay sweet and true
And songs you've heard a thousand times still sound bright and new
When we reach that perfect folk club in the sky

Every note is crystal
Every word is heard
Children sit in silence
I know, it's quite absurd
And every floor singer remembers every word
When we reach that perfect folk club in the sky

The bar is one big fountain
Of gushing real ale
And every tankard's larger
Than a milking pail
And no one sings a 40 verse tribute to the whale
When we reach that perfect folk club in the sky

Each song's in perfect rhythm
It never gets too slow
And there's no need for raffles to help pay for
The show
And all the bodhrán players have been banished down below
When we reach that perfect folk club in the sky

credits

from The Gift, released January 1, 2001

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Harvey Andrews Shropshire, UK

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