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| Busker © Copyright George Papavgeris, November 2002 Inspired by the" Busker of St Albans", John Breeze, to whom it is dedicated, together with my thanks for his support and friendship It's Saturday, it's market day, Everyone out to spend their pay. But pavement's wet, and sky is grey And people rush along. They hurry past me, young and old, Their dawdling children mothers scold; And me, still shivering with cold, I launch into my song. No point being sensitive and bashful, I don't pretend to be some music star. And though I play just for me, And most will hear me just for free, Some people stop and turn to see Me playing my guitar. My guitar resting on my knee, Its open case in front of me, No better place than this, to see The whole town on parade. Some, pennies just like tears they shed, Some send their kids to me instead, Some drop in buttons, others bread And cans of lemonade. Some people look at me and turn their nose up And right across the street a path they carve. But that's all right, 'cos they don't know How properly to count the score; They think they're rich, I know they're poor, 'Cos money is all they have Now tell me who the smartest is; You rush along, I take my ease, My music carried on the breeze, My soul along with that. So stop a moment next to me And drop a penny, better three, And if you join in harmony I really will be glad. No matter what the charity I'm serving, I promise you that it's a worthy cause. So put your voice where it belongs And trade with me some chorus songs. Together we'll put right the wrongs And share in the applause. CHORUS So name the song you want to hear, It is yours for the asking; And fast or slow or gay or sad, I'll give it of my best. Get off the ratrace for a sec And listen to me busking. And if you drop a coin or two Both you and I are blessed. |
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George's CDs are manufactured by Bump Studios
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