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The Royal Albert Hall presents
The first performance in London

Sonnets Of Donovan


Perhaps

Perhaps
Today is your day
Today you have love
(You only hired your seat)
My name is voice
Your name is ear
Have you left
the January wind (spring is near)?

Where are you going
Oh wind of the morning
Your slippers are showing
and you're still yawning

To waken the wee ones
To tickle their lashes
For breakfast of milk buns
Toy spoons and splashes

Where are you going
So tinyly singing
Where are you blowing
the kiss you are making

To ponds to make ripplings
To blow out the matches
To lift up the gull wings
When the plow scratches


Julian McAllister notes

About nineteen years ago Donovan was born into the streets of Glasgow impressions from the strap and glass eyed Saturday night man, left perception of a quality rare. Don is an occult of the religion music, someone who is part of a deeper thing than a revival of something that was dying, more like the opening into a new world of expressing things that many people understand and are now feeling. Some people know what happenings the open road holds and the expectancy of each toen as you brush the rain out of your eye and maybe sleep in its park. Don has known and felt all these things and the expanse of freedom it gives anyone who has travelled and dug mind changes. Freedom of mind is the greatest liberation.

Julian McAllister, 1965.

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