by Chris Hinderyckx (August 2002)
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Come all of you dancers and prancers, musicians of all shapes and size
and I'll tell you of old Mendocino and a camp there that takes the first
prize. They call it the Lark In The Morning, though I never did figure out why
but if you're inclined to the music I think you should give it a try.
When arriving beware of the traffic, I think you will find it no joke with the campers and buses and caravans and dust that will cause you to choke. Registraion and finding your campsight and a place to dipense of your car by the time you are all settled in there you'll well be in need of a jar.
In camp one there are tunes in abundance and fiddlers are under each tree guitarists and flutes by the dozen all playing the skithereedee but soon the tunes all run together and the melodies all sound the same, when I asked how they tell them apart, they said that its all in the name.
So I headed off down to camp two on a bus they say runs through the night it was packed to the gills with musicians and soon we were all getting tight we arrived in most glorious condition and staggered off down to the hall where the froggies they all go a-courtin and you never hear Lannigan's ball.
But I soon realized what the score was and nothing much was going on
so I headed on back to the bus after meeting a man named Paul-John
there were medeval rounds on the bus ride and flirting and stories and jokes
it's soon I departed in Camp 3 and quickly was offered a smoke.
In camp three there were dancers gyrating t'would make a poor musician hard and the baked goods were also enticing, and they say they are free af all lard but I didn't look good in a caftan and my tunic was not up to snuff so I headed off back to camp one where they all play the right kind of shtuff.
With all of my inebriations I found i'ld fallen out of the bus and I landed on top of a piper lamenting a drag queen named fluff he quickly did ask my intentions, I asked for a verse of Tom Joad as he started to pump up his bellows I hoofed it off down the old road.
In Camp 1 the fire low was burning and the tunes they were all drying up I spied a wee lass with a dumbek and soon I was chatting her up she showed me the old rhythm method as we stained turkish muck through our teeth. She told me I was her best student, I said I admired her.. technique.
So come all of you singer and strummers in search of some new recreation
if your sessions at home are a bummer start planning a musical vacation
there'll be tune of all type and varieties for oud, lute, steel drum or sitar.
You can take up the Bulgarian bagpipes or belly dance under the stars.
Here's a health to old Mckie and Beth who have caused me so much consternation for to pay for my camp fees next year I'll be taking a new occupation 'cause I want to be like that old plough boy, and learn how to whistle and sing but they're sending us off in the morning as the dew gently falls on our wings.
slainte, Chris
Webmaster, Jack Gilder © 2002 all rights reserved.
Lark Camp, PO Box 1176, Mendocino, CA 95460 USA (707) 964-4826