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For twenty seconds as we pass you by,
We’re the best of friends, we always say hi,
Standing proud outside Kendalls or,
sheltering from rain by the Music store.

Whatever the weather you’re always there,
An icon of the Mancunian night air,
Your soulful notes catch on the breeze,
As soon as we hear them we remember with ease.

That you’re always there come rain or shine,
And your pockets we should remember to line,
For the music you play always gives us a treat,
The Simpsons, Corrie and Baker Street.

We’ve seen you before but what the heck,
We giggle and laugh and dance for a sec,
Like a long lost friend from a time gone by,
We ask for our favourites, then say goodbye.

Off into our evenings, your notes float away,
And once again we’ve forgotten to pay,
All we did… was ask for our songs,
You obliged, we danced and then we were gone.

I glance back, more folk are twisting your wrist,
But I wonder who are you Mister Saxophonist?
Where do you live and where do you go?
When you pack up your stuff at the end of your show?

Does someone come for you, do you walk home alone?
Does anyone interrupt with a call on your phone?
All I see… is you there each week,
Playing your saxophone, puffing your cheeks.

But what do you do with the rest of your life?
Do you play in a band? Do you have a wife?
Do you buy her some flowers on your way home?
When you’ve finished playing your saxophone.

You always look happy, I hope that you are,
I hope your music pays for your car,
And a house somewhere nice with a beautiful view,
But I need to know…what do you do!!

My girls drag me back as I stop and stare,
At your happy face and your afro hair,
Friday and Saturday you stand on the street,
But what do you do with the rest of your week?

I feel ignorant now coz I’ve known you so long,
But all I’ve done is danced to your song,
Another drunkard to dance in the rain,
Does anyone even ask you your name?

Next week I’ll ask you of that I am sure,
The questions build up; you’ll think I’m a bore,
Please turn up saxy because I need to know,
Is there a Mrs Saxophonist who loves you so?

Copyright©2011 by Phil Martin

Doorway Under The Arches