The 60s Folk Revival Poem by Barney Rooney

the Grays Inn Road at the Singers Club
a depression era hall
we joined the workers' struggle
to the sound of Ewen McColl
up there on the barren stage
with his hand cupped to his ear
A L Lloyd and the Seegers too
the message good to hear
-the dignity of labour
-the power of the collective
-the art of resistance
-never act as expected
we scorned the boxes made of ticky tacky
that caught Malvina's eye
when key and chorus hit the mark
we knew songs would turn the tide
but it took time to see the sub-text
in the innocence of it all
for Dylan was really Zimmerman
Ewen was no McColl


we hammed up history with the Clancy's,
in mammy-knitted Aran sweaters
lapped up tidied tales of heroes
who'd cast off England's fetters
wild we went
raised the roof of the Albert Hall
Knightsbridge should have trembled
when we'd start to singalong
ones and twos until it catches
now the artist can't be heard
the audience storming off to war
for we know all the words
but it was hard to see the sub-text
as we rode the joyous tide
the royalties passed on down the Bann
at Toome where McCorley died


the revolution crept upon us
but it wasn't the workers risen
tho' you could do OK
if you bought the plan
and shared the me-me vision
rewarded now with time in hand
a final salary pension
passion softened off by life
to modest good intention
so dust off the linn sondek
run an eye along the spines
for that track that takes you back
to where the senses dance to the reel of time
a hornpipe on the grave of Lord Randall
a toast to his bad eel pie
a jig to William grown to a rose
entwining Barbara Allen's briar
old old tales and older airs
from souls now long long gone
may the wheel of time keep coming round for
Trad. and the bold Anon.