WHAT ARE MY TEARS?

it is something of a disaster at the brown lion
i invite fifteen people to my spontaneous gig
earned off the previous night's performance
i trek my hoarse voice across the city to the pub
on a cold sunday evening
i dare to go on after steve ajao's electric blues band
has literally brought the house down
they are loud and they are hot!!!
no-one i've invited turns up (it was admittedly a late invite)
and the landlord suddenly informs me
he doesn't think it's the 'right night'
i remember a story told by john york
bassist in the byrds' second incarnation
of a disastrous gig where the band arrives several hours late
and plays a much-truncated set
york is disappointed for the audience's sake
but mcguinn tells him
'don't worry john, we'll get them the next time around'
mcguinn was talking like a professional
(mcguinn is the ultimate professional)
as for me
i'm trying to think like a professional
so not to worry
i'll get them the next time around
steve ajao catches me just as i'm leaving

(he's seen me take out my guitar and then put it away again)

we exchange a few words
he is a friendly bloke and a top performer
i know the pianist in his jazz band
i chat with his drummer too
apparently they have played a monumental three-hour set

of which i only got to see twenty minutes
as i walk home through the empty disconsolate streets
i get my compensation

out of the knock-back
a brand new song is conceived:

"I've been disillusioned
Cheated and let down
I've been taken for granted
Forgotten about
But all my disappointments
Are nothing in life's schemes
For what are my tears
To the fallen trees?"