Ode to "The thinking man’s John Williamson"

The crew asked on this occasion, with some monetary persuasion
If I might put pen to paper for a celebratory verse
It’s not cause I’ve got class, they were covering their arse
Cause if I start the show it can’t get any worse.

It was fifteen years ago, that you had your first live show
And what number of tequilas must have passed your lips since then
You sang about poor Hector, and the cops radar detectors
And it seems some of these characters, have grown to be like friends.

And you got the people singing loud until their ears were ringing
From the Rest Hotel at Milson’s point, to Darwin’s sunny shore
You played country, rock and folk, with a smattering of jokes
And the people must have liked it ˜cause they all came back for more.

You’ve had bad times and good, as an entertainer would
But there’s been the odd occasion, where you’ve got into a mess
And you lost it just a tad, and the farmer got quite mad
When the road crew bashed his wife up, at the Bathurst B&S.

Though you never once protested on the night we got arrested
It was clear the situation didn’t have you lost for words
Through that monumental cock up in the Kirribilli lock up
We wrote essays for the magistrate, and penned the song called “Turds”

You’d had one too many Guinness on that evening in Glen Innes
When you tried to ride the crew van like a chariot from Ben Hur
And you whipped your mighty steed with your wooden rosary beads
Saying “Look I’m Charlton Heston”, (which you clearly thought you were).

But this evening cannot last, so I’ll have to finish fast
There’s a lot more I can tell you but I won’t go on with that
And you didn’t leave your homes just to listen to my poems
So put your hands together and let’s hear some songs from Pat

Written to celebrate Pat Drummond’s 15 years as a professional musician.

© copyright A Jack

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