Apprentice Song [demo]

Written many years ago for a revue, but not used. The tune is basically ‘Tramps and Hawkers’. Vocal needs work. Or maybe it should stay as a poem.

(c) David  A. Harley

Fetch the rolls: make the tea: grab the end of that
And sand it till your fingers bleed, if you think you’ve planed it flat.

Call yourself apprentice? Lad, I’d be ashamed
If I knew so little, to be called by such a name

Never mind the splinters: In a year or two
You’ll have quite forgotten that they ever bothered you.

Hands as hard as English oak, muscle, skill and guile:
That’s what makes a craftsman; but not you, for a while

 Cut yourself, you silly sod? Take care, if you please,
And don’t bleed on the timber: do you think it grows on trees?

Call yourself a craftsman? No, lad, never you.
Though if you try your hardest, one day you might scrape through

 So you’ve got your piece of paper? I hope I’ve taught you well,
And I won’t deny you’re willing: no doubt time will tell.

Call yourself a craftsman? That’s as may well be…
Another year, or five, or ten, and then perhaps we’ll see…

David A. Harley

Author: David Harley

Musician/singer/songwriter; independent author/editor

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