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No More Dream Job For Me

It was good whilst it lasted

But it’s over – c’est la vie

Blame corona, blame the lockdown

Blame whoever just not me!

It was perfect, unexpected,

Served a purpose, struck a chord

But now being realistic:

I’m not going back onboard

No more playing standards on a cruise ship on the Rhine

No more gentle lounge jazz when its Captain’s Cocktail time

No more dodgy classics in the background of high tea

No more river cruises

No more dream job for me

No more dancing couples after asking for their song

No more tunes from “Les Mis” as the old girls sing along

No more learning new tunes that bring back a memory

No more playing oldies

No more dream job for me

No more Cuban stogies from that pipe shop in Koblenz

No more funny comments when the atmosphere was tense

No more chicken noodles: Cologne street food for my tea

No more Fred Ferkels

No more dream job for me

At least I still am healthy: getting covid would be bleak

At least I’ll see my boys now: no long breaks of thirty weeks

And now I’ve started busking on a website naturally

At least I am performing

That’s the dream job for me

By Iain Gilmour


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