I met Thomas many years ago at the Coney Beach funfair in Porthcawl, South Wales. It had long passed its glory days of the fifties but still attracted the crowds in search of that thrill. Like many who work the fairs he had a story to tell and over a can of Fanta and a bag of salty chips he told me his.

John Anealio is a musician, podcaster and teacher. I first remixed him back in 2008. This time I’ve just taken his stirring 12 string guitar from his great track Rachel Rosen.

This is the third time I have uploaded this. I think its a little too rambling but ballads tend to be that way. I remixed it but it still needs a good place in the saddle to get to the end! It’s reported that the Ballad of Sir Patrick Spens had over a hundred verses. So your getting off lightly with this one!!


This is the story of a man they called Thomas
Serious man serious past
He worked the carousel of human kindness
Taking the money dishing out the laughs

He was a wise man still a little crazy
Full of adventure short on time
Ready for options laid on the table
Always a winner at least in his mind

He came from a place outside of the city
Where people were friendly at least to his face
He had a wife a good job and children
A house nearly paid for part of the race

But then the gods he revered, admired and followed
Looked down with passion, mischief and disdain
They Grabbed a piece of all he cherished
Threw it in the gutter screaming we’re not to blame

So it was and always will be
The truth is harder for those who believe
The road is longer and never ending
But sometimes its not only the blind who can’t see

Keep your beliefs in a bag in the corner
Do not share them unless you need pain
Follow someone if only for pleasure
Keep the faith and ride the good train

In ‘82 when the world had conspired
He left for Brighton but never arrived
He took a left turn and headed for Matlock
Near Darley Dale where the Derwent flowed by

He set up a house with a girl he called Sharon
Her real name was lucy but Sharon sounded fine
He told her he loved her for more than her beauty
But the beauty was made from the glasses of wine

When the skies were dark, profain and complaining
The skin grown drier, he set out from home
Walked the roads back to the people he’d damaged
But found the house empty whereabouts unknown

He walked the long roads for places remembered
Tore up his body searched far and wide
Never discovered where they were living
And the truth is perhaps he’d never really tried.

When spring stirred the spirit and the carnival was in town
He worked the carousel with a gleam in his eye
He knew he was guilty, heartless and tainted
But still he believed the hurt would pass by