I started writing poems when I was 16 and continued to do so all my life. Some even got published. They were okay. Then, along came Robert Wolfgramm. Robert found expression for my 'poetry' by turning them into song-poems, which is where this little book begins. Robert himself wrote both words and music, but he wrote more music than words. From the 1980s on, I wrote for other musicians too. Nothing formal. They'd pick up the book of words that lay around my study. 'Can I borrow these?' they'd ask. And they'd pick through the lyrics and come back with a song or two. Maybe you will too? After all, it's a songbook of sorts. In those days, people - generous people, people like my friend Clayton after slightly too much wine - occasionally described me as a 'poet'. I found that really awkward. I thought 'song-poet' was better. 'Poet' brings to mind 'real' poets. A flick through this book tells you I'm not one of those. There's nothing highfalutin about being a song-poet, it's not an elevated title. A tunesmith may treat my rhymes like works-in-progress. My words are seldom delicate. Ran widdershins in his brain, there's no widdershins here. Wrapped up in earth's diurnal course, there's no diurnals here. Sometimes the musicians finish off my lyrics. Other times, they tweak them. And, on a few occasions, my words are completely turned on their ear so the message of the song is nothing as intended when scrawled in my notebook, late that night. One consistent problem throughout the years is that I can't convincingly perform my co-written songs. Partly because, (1) I'm a crook singer, and, (2) there are too many tricky chords. Look at this from Robert - G13-9 leading to an A Flat. I don't even enjoy playing A Flat So how am I supposed to cope with G13-9? Then one day, when asked to perform at the Blue Mountains Music Festival, I thought - never mind the G13-9s, never mind the music. And especially drop the G-C-D7 bounce, that I do enjoy strumming. Never mind all that, I'll just read the words." Lowell Tarling