I call them the Dutch Dire Straits. All my respects go out to them.
This is a bit of a super band, the vreemde kostgangers (which translates to strange boarders/lodgers).
Henny Vrienten on base is from Doe Maar (just do it)
George Kooymans on lead guitar from the Golden Earring
Boudewijn de Groot on guitar and singing, Boudewijn is about the greatest singer of the Netherlands with a career spanning 54 years. The strange lodgers ended in 2021 when it was known that George Kooymans got sick with Lou Gehrig's disease. That meant the end of their cooperation and the end of the Golden Earring.
When he wrote his first material in the thirties
A way too pale new talent with much to wide trousers
Who's delicate poetry survived the crisis years
Looking for higher ideals and humanity
His work was heralded from all sides
He was a once in a lifetime talent
He saw his name printed in all the newspaper
they thought he was better than he even had thought himself to be
The cultural elite fought about him in in their magazines
Each and everyone claiming they had discovered him.
He was the middle of the elite and their cultural claptrap
And even though he had just begun, the expectations were sky high
Because being a prodigy of 20 years young
Is always a good starting point
Yes, this guy can reach for the stars
Yes, there is a lot of growth left in him
But on poetry no man can survive
So he had to find a job at a big newspaper
And what he wrote after that
did not reflect his ideals anymore
It was the occupation that ignited the fire in him
He wanted to join the resistance as a hero
He would strike the enemy with his writing
With the fire and aggression of his literary might
He just survived the concentration camp
but by then he had lost any ideal he once had
And everything he once believed in
was crushed from him by the butt end of a rifle
And a prodigy of fourty
is just a sad affair
He could have achieved so much in his life
but who will not achieve anything anymore
He did a few translations of books or something like that
but that was not something anybody noticed
His debut work was not something he could repeat
and in his new work nobody was interested anymore
He was seen sitting for years and years in a corner
of the artist association's bar
Where the guys were not amused by his jokes
but they always accepted drinks he bought them\
They found him this morning dead in his room
With a note for his children in his hand
And only then they wrote they could appreciate him
And he was written about in a national writers publication
Because a prodigy of fifty
Has not lived up to his talent
He should have ended it a long time ago
He has wasted his talent
Because a prodigy of fifty
Has not lived up to his talent
He should have ended it a long time ago
He has wasted his talent
A prodigy of fifty
That really is not something to behold
So to stay consequent in his failed life
At the end of his life, he closed his own book