…That’s what I wrote it for

Fred Wedlock (Photo by Weydonian)

When your Substitute Scribe asked Mike, who had just sung The Redland Green Bobby [British Bobby], to confirm his view that it was "One of Fred's", little did he realise that the question would develop into one of those half-hour ‘workshop’ discussions for which The Dragon is (in)famous – in this case on the question of Folk Music, Copyright and Attributing Songs to the Correct Writer. The conversation passed, anecdotally and polemically, through such writers as Mr Wedlock, Cyril Tawney, Roger Watson, Canadian guitarist Vera Johnson, Ed Pickford, Michael Starkey and Woody Guthrie, whose copyright notice is referenced in the title above viz. "This song is copyrighted in U.S. for a period of 28 years, and anybody caught singing it without my permission, will be a mighty good friend of mine, 'cause that's what I wrote it for."

St Patrick's Day - 2018

Last week's session was for St Patrick, who is patron saint of engineers and paralegals as well as of many geographical locations but of course our main focus was on Ireland.

Colin was MC and he started the evening off with The Gals O' Dublin Town (Roud 7989).

We had a good representation of song of Ireland but a number of other events and occasions were also marked. Talk of Cheltenham races led to Derek singing Creeping Jane (Roud 1012, Laws Q23) and Colin, no doubt planned anyway as part of his Irish set, The Galway Farmer (Steve Knightley).

Derek, further delaying his entry into the week's theme, pointed out that the preceding Sunday had been Mothering Sunday, which he traditionally marks with the singing of The Rose And The Gillyflower.

Dewi Deferred

Saint David (Dewi Sant)

Last week's Dragon Folk Club session was relatively well attended with eight performers and two audience members. The audience, who said they enjoyed the evening but had to leave early were Paul and Monica; we hope to see you again soon. We were also joined from over the bridge (i.e. having travelled from his home in South Wales) by Barry. I'm not sure whether Barry has been to the DFC before but whether or not, he was very welcome.

It has come to my notice that there is an even going on that may be of interest to our regulars, particularly those who have been coming to the club for a very long time. There is an exhibition at the Yate & District Heritage Centre which runs until the 17 March, entitled The Pubs of Yate and Sodbury. It is notable because the advert for the exhibition on Facebook shows The Lamb Inn at Iron Acton, which was the original venue for the club, being its home for the first seventeen and a half years of its existence.

Back to last week's session, it informally inherited the theme of St David (Dewi Sant in Welsh) from the previous week's abortive event, which just didn't happen because of the snow. Colin was MC and He started off proceedings appropriately with the Bells Of Rhymney, a song first recorded by Pete Seeger, using words written by Welsh poet Idris Davies. The lyrics to the song were drawn from part of Davies' poetic work Gwalia Deserta ("Wasteland of Wales"), which was first published in 1938.

Deep and crisp and even

Here I am, writing the folk club report when I should be at the folk club. I was to be in charge this week, since Colin is out and about barn dancing. Expecting a low turn-out I did quite a bit of advertising: some directed, some scatter-gun, so it was difficult to tell everyone that we were unlikely to have an effective session. The upshot was that I decided to put in an appearance if at all possible.

So, off I set, about 20 minutes earlier than usual: out of our village the first issue was the hill up to the motorway. I came to a halt, wary of an oncoming car and had difficulty getting going again. The motorway wasn't too bad - 30-40 miles per hour seemed reasonable. There were one or two stranded cars on the way and emergency vehicles around to help. The ring road wasn’t much worse than the motorway, and then I made my way up the road towards Pucklechurch. While it was easily navigable, there were stationary cars everywhere, presumably abandoned there last night. I should have been warned by the car trying to free itself from the Shortwood turning but no, I carried on for a little way, turned round and found it gone when I regained the turning. I turned in and was immediately and, so it seemed, irretrievably stuck.