The Busker's Waltz

Words & Music: Geoff Drummond (3.25)

Words & Music: Geoff Drummond

For Chris Aronsten

Dateline: Rundle Mall, Adelaide, South Australia

 

A note from Geoff: "Buskers are a source of both great amusement and irritation to many, with community attitudes over the years swinging between licensing and banning them. Regardless, they have become a fitting part of the music of our cities, brash and dissonant, courageous against the odds, despairing and, at times, ridiculous. My Father once said his "years weren't that many to feel this old." Those words found their way into this song. Without the Buskers, many of the faces in the street would seem much older indeed."

 

A violin plays a sad song

and a street corner echoes to a night too long.

The glitter of silver and the lustre of bronze

lay at his feet as the busker plays on.

 

The roar of the traffic, his only applause

as he stands in the doorway; his own concert hall.

A spotlight is flickering from a 'Beaurepaire' sign

on the stage where the busker resides.`

 

You may call him a drifter, or man without means

but he'll play that violin as you've never seen

His hands like lightning, his bow swift and clean;

an artist at work on his dream

It's five o'clock and you're dragging on home

and your years aren't that many to feel this old.

Then down on the corner you hear the busker's waltz played

taking the rusting away

When the day seems too long and you feel something's wrong,

you've got a man and his violin to sing you a song.

Don't hesitate; your bus is probably late anyway.

 

A violin plays a sad song

and a street corner echoes to a night too long.

The glitter of silver and the lustre of bronze

lay at his feet as the busker plays on.

A street seller sells, and a sweeper he sweeps

and a busker goes busking for gold in the streets.

So if I have to listen to the city at all,

give me a busker alone in the Mall.

 

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