May Time The Robber Leave You, The Boy's Heart All Your Days

Just back from a Martin Stevenson and the Daintees gig at the unlikely venue of Woodend Tennis Club. The first time I saw Mr Stephenson was at King Tuts, and the next time in the Tynemouth Arts Centre. I've also seen him at Cottiers, The Royal Glasgow Concert Hall, The Tron and The Star Bar in Newcastle. He gets around.
This was the latest Sounds in the Suburbs gig arranged by a local guy, more or less as a hobby (hano  take note).
Martin was his usual excellent value, and it's the first time I've seen him play with the Daintees in 10 or 15 years. They were playing their first album, Boat to Bolivia, as well as half a dozen or so other early songs, and finished with "Home", one of my favourites.
I was wondering why the album has stood up so well compared to, say Haircut 100's debut. The songs may have something to do with it - they are actually ABOUT something:
Alcoholism, hypocrisy, suicide, armed robbery, a friend's miscarriage, his lesbian sister's girlfriend - and that's the first half dozen tracks alone. All to a jaunty beat too, for the most part. As Kay pointed out, there was one cod-reggae track (or "The Jackson Browne trap" as she calls it), but even that's so cheerful I forgive him for it...
Oh, as I said, he closed with "Home", a lovely, simple song which quotes his earlier lyric "The Boy's Heart". That's worth posting in full I think (or at least as full as I can make it out:
"Oh arrow straight and slender,
With grey eyes unafraid
You see the Rose's splendour
Nor reck that day shall fade.
Youth in its flush and flower
Bares the soul its whitest flame
Eyernity in an hour
All life and death a game.
May youth forever weave you
His magic round your waist
And time the robber leave you
The Boy's Heart all your days."

Except tonight he changed the last two lines to
"May time the stealer leave you,
The Girl's Heart all your days."

I don't think I've ever seen a performer as comfortable in his own skin.

Wise/Wimp, tick one

Well, as far as work nights out go, being home in bed by nine is not exactly Rock and Roll (I should maybe clarify: In my OWN bed. Alone).
I'm chosing to see this as a mark of maturity, though. The drinking started around 4, and I hit a wall around 7. The bar was very busy, I didn't like the feel of the crowd, and I just wasn't in the mood. Instead of suggesting we moved on somewhere, I slipped away sometime after 8. and now I'm tucked up with a good book. Well, with a good MacBook, but sleep will follow.
There's just too much to do tomorrow for me to be out of the game with a hangover I didn't really enjoy getting -  why risk enjoying the holidays for a few hours with folk I don't like that much?
So it's off to sleep for me. Boy, unblinkered  is in for a surprise when she gets home...

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz