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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