Winter in the Woolpack

Lyrics:

I was sitting in the corner in the back room of the bar
When I overheard the story ‘bout the poet & the bard
With a fiddle on his shoulder someone sidled next to me
I was sitting at the table with the ghost of Laurie Lee

He asked if he could join me, I was sitting in his chair
By the window in the corner’s where he likes to drink his beer
Watching Peter Webb the farmer sow & harvest from afar
But the best view in Slad Valley is the maids behind the bar

Winter in the Woolpack there’s a fire in the hearth
You can sit round the piano singing songs or playing darts
On a frosty winters evening there’s no place I’d rather be
Than sitting in the Woolpack with the ghost of Laurie Lee

So, Laurie lead me by the hand into the middle bar
Let me introduce some other folk who join me on the wall
You really know you’ve made it into local history
When your pictures on the Woolpack wall along-side Laurie Lee

There’s Covington the old landlord’s picture on the wall
In his sheepskin bomber jacket, he flew spitfires in the war
And Frank Mansell the poet is lighting up his pipe
He’s as Cotswold as a dry-stone wall & lived here all his life

Winter in the Woolpack there’s a fire in the hearth
You’re surrounded by the living & the dearly departed
On a frosty winters evening there’s no place I’d rather be
Than sitting in the Woolpack with the ghost of Laurie Lee

You can put a drink in for a mate & they’ll write it on the board
If you owe someone a favour a pint is just rewards
Now Bing’s name’s always at the top, he’s owed forever more
He’s the only one who’s passed away with drinks in on the board

Winter in the Woolpack there’s a fire in the hearth
Lords & Ladies, thieves & tradies mix with businessmen & artists
You can join The Front Benchers for some lively repartee
While sitting in the Woolpack with the ghost of Laurie Lee

Now it’s time for us to raise a glass & toast the memory
The first Lady of the Woolpack, Trish Tinsley
Trish worked the bar for 20 years, she saw & heard it all
In pride of place her smiling face sits watching from the wall

Winter in the Woolpack there’s a fire in the hearth
Laurie strikes his fiddle with his bow and people start to dance
To a tune that tells a story, it’s living history
We’re dancing in the Woolpack with the ghost of Laurie Lee

Fiddle Solo

I bought the bard a night-cap, a half a pint of Best
And a double whisky chaser keep the cold from off his chest
He donned his winter jacket, grabbed his fiddle & his hat
And these the words he said to me I shall ne’er forget

“I was set down from the carrier’s cart at the tender age of three
All alone beneath the summer grass my oldest memory
I lived down in the Valley ‘till I was seventeen
When I stepped out one summers morn to go a-wandering

Now it’s winter in the Woolpack there’s a fire in the hearth
I’ve travelled all around the world and happiest where I started
On a frosty winters evening this is where I’ll be
Sitting in the Woolpack down in the valley”
We’re sitting in the Woolpack with the ghost of Laurie Lee
We’re sitting in the Woolpack with the ghost of Laurie Lee

lyrics copyright Lisa Fitzgibbon 2021
melody traditional “Hot Asphalt”