Tags
bad buskers, buskers, Glastonbury, Hippies, humour, idiots, life, New Age, talent
This is my ode to some of the terrible buskers we seem to attract on Glastonbury High Street every time either the sun comes out or there is an event. From a shop worker’s perspective. We do have some very good buskers, sadly, they don’t come out to play as often.
Please tourists, pay the good ones and stop encouraging the others, they come back and we have to live with them all year!
I can’t sing and I can’t plaaaaaay
But I’m gonna do it anywaaaaay
Give me cash or I’m gonna staaaaay
Rest assured I’ll be here all daaaaay
Chorus: wooo-woooo, how ya doing? Yeah!
All the good buskers run awaaaaaay
You ain’t gonna get out here todaaaaay
If you work in a shop
You’ll never get awaaaaaay!
Chorus: Woooo-wooooo, how ya doin’? Where ya goin;? Yeah!
Next week I’m bringin’ me digeridooooooo
I can’t play it so I’ll murder that for you-ooooooo
Everyone knows I’m a talentless dooooooooooood
But no one says so in case it’s rooooooood!
Chorus: Woooo-wooooo, yeah! Glastonbury! Woah!
All the shop workers get down on their knees!!
“Get Tim Hawthorne up herel pleeeeeeease!”
But sorry folks but not todaaaaaay
I’m gonna play for you all daaaaay!
Chorus: Wooooo-woooood. Oh Yah!! Yeah! Coool!
A Life Most Ordinary 