Rory made a new guitar and passed it on to Martin
In exchange for lending back his Tirga Beag
A deviation in his builds, he’s trying out a dreadnought
and Martin’s only got it for the week.
He did his best to play some tunes and post them for our pleasure
To let us hear the rolling thunder sound
When Rory came to get it our Martin hid his face
The prototype dreadnought could not be found
But truth be told it was just that young Martin was embarrassed
He’d told us that the dreadnought really rocked
Then foolishly announced that he was going out to dinner
And the silly bugger left the door unlocked
I made my way to Hamilton and found the house deserted
And quickly made my entry through the door
Located Rory’s dreadnought and I hid it in the boot
You’d think that Martin knew what house alarms are for.
I brought it back to Liverpool and played it for my Mrs
We drank some beer, some whisky and Red Bull
But I couldn’t do it justice though I strummed and picked and played
I could not make it sound anything but dreadful
The moral of this story, if there is one, is just this:
If you’ve a Taran, guard it with your life
And do not leave the door unlocked or else you must explain
To Rory why his Dreadnought can’t come back to Fife.