Harry’s Song
Words & Music: Bob Bales

I was finally able to realize a song suitable to fit the enduring character of a man,
not only brilliant in hi smusical abilities of profound bodhran playing, but capable of
rhytmically keeping together a right bunch of rattlin’ strings. Fair play Harry!
Dedicated to Harald Sawatzki from Frankfurt, germany

Harry spent a week away with the band he likes to play.
Travelling form A to B, with his bodhran on the knee.
From North to South, for East to west, Harry gives his very best.
A roll, a whisper or staccato, here and there a long crescendo.
Beating to the rhythm of the band.

His bones he likes to click together to the music whether ever.
Jigs or reels, ballads, slides, he’ll beat the shite out of his ride.
And is his goat all tattered, torn, no more sound when all is worn’.
Harry goes through thick and thin to catch a kid upon the mountain.
To beat to the rhythm of the band.

One day off work, his wife is waiting, he thinks there’ll be some celebrating.
But soon he’ll find his contemplating is washed away be renovating.
Mending pick-ups, wash-machines, chinese bells and other things.
Conjugal rights, not from he Misses, now poor Harry really misses.
Beating to the rhythm of the band.

One night away from the band is just too much to miss the grand.
Craig on stage, the music played, the beer is flowing all the rage.
The hotel rooms he’s shared with Barry, or Joe, or Bob, or Tom, or Mary.
So he packed his bags again, took the earliest possible train,
To beat the rhythm of the band