
The Kelly Song Collective
Tuesday Night
If there’s a song in your throat
Or your fingers dance on strings
Come sit ‘round the table and lift up your voice
And hear how a Tuesday night sings
This one’s from Dublin
And she’s from Quebec
The Serbian’s Luke Kelly’s ghost
A kind soul to watch o’er us
A Toronto quartet
But stories are what I love most
At the wee pub next door
Is where we first played
The first of 10,000 songs
Folk groups and fashion
And lovers may fade
But this drum has kept beating so strong
A song for a dollar
A tune for a dime
And one for a laugh or a tear
A song from Gord Lightfoot
A one by John Prine
Or one of your own we can hear
Music hall standards
The mic goes around
Reels follow drinking and still
Jigs on a fiddle
And Dirty Old Town
Melodies tumble and spill
From pints on the table
Like trees in the park
That lubricate spirits and throats
Rise the Polkas From Hell
To rattle the dark
Who cares if we hit the right notes
When guitars go to bed
And the Guinness stops flowing
Musicians pour out in delight
The ones that loves music
Are safe in the knowing
We’re here again next Tuesday night
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© Michael Worthington Music 2014
