Andy Roberts

THE FOLKER(Fred Wedlock)Oh, my name is “Lead Fingers Murphy” and my story's seldom toldI massacre folk music with a yard of German plywood and a capoI do requests--just the ones that have two chords in them and I disregard the restNa na nya na na na na na na nya etc . . .In the Seabeen Pub I clean forgot the 42nd verse,So I sang the 27th twice as loud and in reverse and no one notice.I laughed for hours the tears ran down me trouser legI thought I'd wet me drawersWell, I stand on stage the hero a martyr to me tradeAnd carry the reminders of all the gigs I've played in like the Irish ClubWhere I fled in mortal fear—with the imprint of a Guinness bottle stamped across my earNa na nya na na na na na na nya etc . . .Seeking twenty with expenses I went looking for a gigBut I got no offers--just a come on from a groupie up in BoulderI do declare--I was feeling rather randy and I had her then and thereNa na nya na na na na na na nya etc . . .Na na na-ya Na na na na na na na-yaNa na na-ya Na na na na na na na-yaNa na na-ya Na na na na na na na-yaWell, I've sung the folk tradition with my finger in my earCause half the stuff I'm singin'—I just can't bear to hear—it's a load of cobblersBar after bar--to the rhythm of an out of tune Japanese guitarNa na nya na na na na na na nya etc . . .Well, I met this great guitarist and I asked him for adviceBut the message that he gave me--wasn't very nice or even civilStick it where--and if I did how could I tune it with it shoved way up thereNa na nya na na na na na na nya etc . . .Now I've got my thing together, man, I'm really freaking outReading “Melody Maker,” mainlining on draught stout and having hang upsAnd like the rest, I'm having trouble with my sex life since I fell and broke my wristAnd my other songs are twice as bad as this