Jim
JIM
Gigging for free, for fun, our choice -
Fur coat, waistcoat, beads:
He sang of Prince Charlie, glens, hero’s deeds.
Scruffy blue jeans, timbre in his voice.
Fridays at the folkmusic club, jamming.
His place one night funniest thing ever heard -
His and his wife’s Glaswegian accent -
But we sang and played till drink was spent
And I couldn’t understand a word.
I liked his singing, they liked my playing.
Met him in Bishopsgate, London one day, said hi -
Was amazed - he was something in a merchant bank,
With camel-hair topcoat and cigar in hand, real swank,
With other banker types - Hong Kong and Shanghai.
Boy, that Jim could sing.
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