Andrew Robinson

picture of Andrew

Smoot scoring


WorkSmoot Scoring ServiceContactBiographicalCompositionsPublicationsLinksInterestsSongsRhymes

Current Work

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Smoot

Using Sibelius music notation software, I offer my services as a music typesetter and editor, with special attention to lyrics in the major European languages.
Clients include: Back to top

Contact Information

Without spaces and with the usual conversions, Andrew at Robinson dot net will find me. Back to top

Biographical Information

Previous work has included I was founding director of Maoin Cheoil an Chláir, classical/traditional music school (chaired by Mícheál Ó Súilleabháin) in Ennis, County Clare, 1993-98. While there I formed and sang in the Ceol Miners Barbershop Quartet, winners of the Irish Association of Barbershop Singers' gold medal for best National Male Quartet in 1997 and 1998.

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Compositions

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Publications

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Some Links

Tibet Ireland, the site run by Tibetans living in Ireland, giving up-to-date information and suggesting actions you can take

h2g2, a site started by Douglas Adams, being the Earth Edition of The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy; where I am known as Recumbentman.

I have contributed entries on Other links Back to top

Personal Interests

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Songs

Here are three songs that I wrote in 1968 or so and recorded in 1972, in Adam Skeaping's London studio, playing a £5 guitar.
Mark Wilkes, creator of WinTemper© historical-temperament software, has converted them to MP3s for your delectation.
Thank you Mark! Back to top

Rhymes

And finally, some little bits of verse I accept responsibility for:

To my fellow-motorists

When we've driven the last cyclist from his toe-hold on the street
Let us not become complacent, for the job is not complete
There's another class of person lining up for our attention
And he bends and breaks the law in every way that you could mention:
The pedestrian. His blind insouciance is past endurance
When it's WE who pay the taxes, pass the tests and buy insurance!
We are gentle, kind, forgiving, but he does his best to thwart us
As a heart-arresting jaywalker or traffic-jamming tortoise . . .
We invented good behaviour, he's determined to destroy it!
And don't tell me to stop ranting, it's my right! And I enjoy it!

A conductor's lot

with apologies to W. S. Gilbert

When a singer's not engaged in ululation
Or contributing his vocals to a chord
He indulges in delightful conversation
Just to save his friends from ever getting bored

When a tenor's tenor register's not ringing
He cracks a smile and perpetrates a pun
Ah, when singers are not actually singing
A conductor's lot is not a happy one

When disciplinary duty's to be done, to be done
A conductor's lot is not a happy one, happy one


When the altos are impatiently awaiting
A soprano cue that's not entirely there
And sectarian division's escalating
It can drive the mildest maestro to despair

When the soloists start resting on their laurels
When the orchestra packs up before you're done
When the basses exercise their baser morals
A conductor's lot is not a happy one

When disciplinary duty's to be done, to be done
A conductor's lot is not a happy one, happy one

Men

On the square are assembled two negative hordes
To fight to the death in the name of their lords

One faction may triumph or both may be shamed
But no man shows merit and none can be blamed
____________________

Pawns battle upward and never look back
Knights gad about cutting through to attack

Bishops adopt contradictory attitudes
Rooks set up strongholds enthralling new latitudes

Queens go in style with the trappings of fame
Kings back their champions to capture the game
____________________

One faction may triumph or both may be shamed
But no man shows merit and none can be blamed

Unmourned unenlightened we shuffle away
To face resurrection when gods stoop to play

Stabat Mater

Berkeley took a stab at Matter
Ran his mental blade right through it
And was Substance hard to shatter?
No, said he, there's nothing to it

Aisling

A poet called Andy McCann
Was inspired with a wonderful plan.
It was truly sublime,
So he put it in rhyme:

O Vision afforded to man,
Are you only a flash in the pan?
How fleeting my flashling—
I'll call you my Aisling . . .

My dream is
to have a
spare
van.

The above will only make sense to those with a passing acquaintance with Irish literature.
Apologies to the rest of the world, who can find the meaning of Aisling here.


to Paul Durcan

Your yawn-inducing monotone
Conveys the furrowed pain
Of one aggrieved, misunderstood,
And licensed to complain

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Last revised: June 2008
Andrew Robinson