It’s been a long, long time (again) since I updated this B-log, ain’t it? I always mean to keep up to speed but it seems to need an outside influence to actually get me round to doing it. This time it’s a posted comment from ‘Anonymous’ reminding me of Heymaker and those Bridge Street Art Centre days – well nights, then – and asking for the words of Weird Sisters.

One time, we had gone on stage at 10pm for our second set. We hit the groove, the songs were flowing like booze, the solos were drawing circles in the sky. We were just rolling out the ending to Weird Sisters when Cyril, the top geezer who ran the place, leapt up on stage waving his arms and shouting: ‘That’s it. Finish! Finish! Enough!’ I said: ‘Oh, come on, man, one more?’ His eyes popped out of his hairy old face, and he screamed: ‘It’s two o’clock in the fucking morning!’ No stamina, some people.

Good to hear from you Anonymous.


When the full moon shines
On the village green
And ancient chimes
Strike 13 . . .

Weird sisters
Weird sisters

Did voodoo do
This trickery?
Magic weed?

Weird sisters
Weird sisters
Weird sisters
Put this spell on me

Round and round
The cauldron go
In the poisoned
Entrails throw

Mandrake root

Weird sisters
Weird sisters
Weird sisters of the night
Put this spell on me.

© W. Terry Fox

Travel safe.


  1. Anonymous, January 12, 2009:

    Thanks boss

    Loved the skull-headed fiddle. Good times.


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