The Sixty Foot Narrowboat by Ian H Bruce (2008) I stand on the stern of a sixty foot narrowboat Fifty-five feet from the solid fuel stove Cold and alone, drenched to the bone Oh where is my mate? Oh where is my love? Me mate's in the cabin of the sixty foot narrowboat Forty five feet from the cold and the wet She's cosy and warm, sheltering from storms I asked for a hot brew, she'd best not forget The kettle's been on in the sixty foot narrowboat The tea long-since brewed has now all been drunk Me mate's in a comfy chair, eating fresh cream ├ęclairs My hopes of a hot drink seem scuppered and sunk There are problems galore on a sixty foot narrowboat Communication being one for a start An intercom was installed, so me mate could be called But dead dry-cell batteries now keep us apart I've not been forgotten on the sixty foot narrowboat Me mate ventures out with refreshments at last And though I'd prefer a tea, she brings a cold coffee With an iced currant rock bun whose sell-by's long past Though luxuries abound on this sixty-foot narrowboat Few are apparent as I stand and steer Miserable, feeling blue, desperately needing loo Cross-legged I pray that my mate will appear Temperature's rise in the sixty-foot narrowboat Resentment and anger, simmer and grow When the silence is broken, harsh words are spoken And me mate returns tearful to the cabin below And what is the name of this sixty-foot narrowboat What name was it given by my mate and me? Was it Odin or Thor or some god of war? No, my mate and me live on board 'Harmony'. 'Call this a Holiday?' puts forward one view of narrowboating and I felt obliged to write another song to provide balance. My wife would like me to point out that this song is entirely fictitious and is in no way based on anything that happens on our 48 foot narrowboat. Recorded on :
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