A conversion

By Dave Goulder 


So many years perched alone

loaded with a cargo of songs and stories

gleaned from self-history

and propped up by a small Spanish guitar

for paid performances in southern towns,

far from my northern life

of stacking stones in some sort of order.



Accompanist to singers in Scots, Gaelic, 

or English, a subtle underpinner for fiddle, flute

and button box in pub sessions till suddenly merged

with two seasoned performers

into a ceilidh trio to play for dancing.



A new discipline – strict tempo to match

dancers’ steps in reels, jigs, marches, strathspeys

supporting John’s and Alasdair’s box and fiddle

with piano, bass and drum parts

on my now amplified classical guitar.



Dancers know the music and the rhythms 

as intimately as the trio on stage,

so watch the feet, the hands –

learn the sets while keeping in time

working at it till I can just relax and play.



We were a ceilidh band

gaining a caller and teacher in Mary

kickstarting a thirty year history

of having fun.