adventures in dysthymia

Saturday, October 25, 2014

Bangin' On My Bodhran, a lyric

Bangin’ On My Bodhran

I’m bangin’ on my bodhran,
it makes a pleasant thump,
and when I bang it hard,
all the dancers jump!
I keep the rhythm for ‘em,
I keep the rhythm tight;
I’m bangin’ on my bodhran,
I’m bangin’ all the night!

The fiddlers don’t like it,
I think they want my blood,
but who’s to say their squeakin’s
are better than my thud?
They give me dirty looks,
it’s like they’re throwin’ knives;
without a drum to bang on,
they have such empty lives!

I’m bangin’ on...

Some like to use a tipper,
some like to use their hand;
some play all by themselves,
And others with a band!
Some hold them to their side,
and some right in the front;
it matters not how I may choose
to bang on my instrument!

I’m bangin’ on...

Now, when if air is soggy,
my bodhran does get limp;
and though I bang my hardest,
I still sound like a wimp!
But I’ll not be stymied,
when the weather’s damp;
my drum’s not its best
but I’ve two feet to stamp!

I’m bangin’ on...

Stephen Brooke ©2014

A song, eventually. I suspect I could make up endless nonsensical verses for this. And maybe I shall!

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