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