I don’t work Fridays. Friday is for coffee, pizza and singing.

I was 19 she was 42. My own personal Mrs Robinson



It was dark outside the nightclub in my old town
The rain clouds threatened to destroy my song
But you said it didn’t matter we were shining
Nothing could delay or make this wrong

It was just before young Jackson Brown got famous
Just before he sang Late For The Sky
When I performed the work of Scott and Blackfield
Return To Sender in my special style

And you kissed me saying how your heart was moving
To the rhythm of the music that I sang
Saying how you would remember this November
And the day you called me Elvis in Bridgend

It’s a simple fact that carousing made me receptive
To the pretty words that came out of your mouth
So I began a version of Love Me Tender
I made up new words when the originals ran out

But you didn’t care if the words were mine and not Ken Darby’s
The emotion of it proved to hold the day
Little things like imperfect vocal renditions
Would never stop our love or get in the way

And you kissed me saying how your heart was moving
To the rhythm of the music that I sang
Saying how you would remember this November
And the day you called me Elvis in Bridgend