(for the Boscastle Busker) He sings like it's the most natural thing, raises a glass and raises his voice from some kind of magic within. All the chatter dies away, the pub is silent when he sings, until the chorus when they all join in. He's most himself when he sings— in a dead man's hat that came to him full of love and loss, worn to bring memories to life, only when he sings.
