Susannes Folksong-Notizen
[1989:] In Glasgow pubs the music had to stop at ten o'clock. You could have a drink after ten, but you couldn't sing. Just before ten all the regulars would slip away to the toilet. At five minutes after ten there is a knock at the door - two stern-looking police enter. The barman apologises, 'Just a little private party, Officers. Would you care for a drink?' He sends the remaining tourists on their way and draws two beers. The acoustics in the toilet were amazing: You could hear the sound of policeman's helmets being taken off and of beer-glasses put down on the bar. After that, it was safe to come out and carry on drinking till six o'clock - when you had to stop to carry the police back to the station. But there would be no singing: Singing drew more police, and most Glasgow pubs could only afford free drink for two policemen. (Intro Hamish Imlach)
[1990:] I was sitting beside Iain MacKintosh one afternoon in the Star Club. An instrumental group began to play the Irish tune The South Wind. Iain and I sang along to the tune, and we both said 'There ought to be words'. I began to think about Jim Daily, fiddler and piper and friend, who would get me into trouble - at the end of a night, after 'time' had been bawled Jim would keep playing tunes. [...] I wrote my song quickly. It was premiered for a group of Irish hikers passing through the Vicky Bar. Then a couple of months later at the Folk Festival on Glasgow Green I lay on the grass to listen to Iain do a lovely set of songs. After he finished he came and sat beside me. 'Iain, I wrote that song to the South Wind tune.' I sang it quietly in his ear. Her looked at me, a little startled. 'I'll sing that!' he said. [So he does, using a slightly different set of words.] (McVicar, One Singer One Song 172)
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