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Anyone is welcome to perform these songs in public without royalties; however, if any of them are recorded or published for profit, the writers/composers expect the usual royalties.

SONG CHALLENGE WINNER!

The Song Challenge:   -- After munchkins, ferrets, panties, and streakers, and considering the recent Carnival /  Mardi Gras madness, I thought we could all use a good stiff drink (that is, unless you've given up the hooch for Lent!).  So here's a little story of compassion and sharing that deserves a good song or two -- On Air Traffic Controller Excuses for Stealing Drinks:  Peter Smith, an air traffic controller trainee, excuses himself to the judge after being charged with the theft of a glass of beer from a bar -- "I am definitely not guilty.  Making my way home from the control tower, I saw a man standing in the street with a glass of beer in his hand.  He told me that the glass was stuck to his hand and asked me to help him get free of it.  When I had done so, he gave me the glass and its contents by way of a reward." 


The Wild (Winged) Rover by derrymacash

I've been a wild rover for many a year
But I've spent not a penny on whiskey or beer
But now I've been outed, the world knows the score
And I never will play the wild rover no more

CHORUS
No nay never
No nay never no more
Will I play the wild rover
No never no more

Me name's Peter Smith, I keep 'planes in the sky
And stop them colliding on their flightpaths so high
A job, you would think, that requires honesty
A concept which doesn't come easy to me

CHORUS

I went into an alehouse I used to frequent
And I called for a beer, though I hadn't a cent
I'd pulled this scam off a few times before
And as I was served, made my way to the door

CHORUS

But this time my plan went a trifle aglae
A big burly policeman stood blocking my way
"If you have intentions to pay for this drink
You'll not have to spend tonight in the clink"

CHORUS

My pockets were searched, and found to be bare
They had me caught by the short, curly hair
When asked by the judge to account for my plight
I told him some wild, unbelievable shite

CHORUS

I'll go home to my parents, confess what I've done
And ask them to pardon their prodigal son
And when they consider if they should comply
I'll steal all their booze and away I will fly

CHORUS



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