Mr Blue

What a fine night it was at the 7th Wonder Jam Session saying goodbye to Mr Blue, who is moving to Bath. This is for him.

Now Mr. Blue was the wonder jam man

In a Folkestone bar called Kipps

He’d play all night in the bar half-light

And it really gives me the pip

For he’s lost his heart to the city of Bath

And the jam won’t be the same

So although I’m not writing his epitaph
I’m sad just to speak his name

     O Mr Blue; what shall we do?

     I’m feeling- kind of 7th wonder jam night blues

     This funny feeling- keeps round me stealing

     O won’t you throw those Bath buns over do?

I try to write a poem- something that will show him

That Kipps bar beats those Bath buns any day

But every verse- is much much worse

Now I know you won’t stay no matter what I say.

O Mr Blue, what shall I do?

I’m feeling- kind of 7th wonder jam night blues

     But Mr Blue’s got a roving eye that flickers

     You ought to see it wobble when he sees a lady’s profile

     Mr Blue what shall I do

     I’m feeling- kind of 7th wonder jam night blues

And what does Bath have- that Folkestone doesn’t?

Okay, it’s a World Heritage Site

With its Roman Baths and the spas

And the Georgian architecture

And the Jane Austen connection

And the buns

But what does that add up to- you’ve got friends here by the dozen

Mr Blue what shall we do?

We’re feeling – kind of 7th wonder jam night blues

Kind of 7th wonder jam night blues

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