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.