I was born somewheres on the East Coast of Canada. I can’t says exactly wheres cause I lost my mama and papa at an early age. It was during the Great Milkweed-Thistle Wars of the mid-50’s. They went out to kill them some milkweeds and never returned. My only memory was that we were so poor that when I cried my mama gave me a harmonica to suck on. She couldn’t afford no pacifist.

In the ensuing years I found myself passed from foster home to foster home dues to some odd circumstances. First I was with the Jeanine family before they moved to France without telling me. Then it was the Sampson family. Mr. Sampson flew the big jets and one day he flew too close to the ground and died and buried himself all in one move. Next it was the Garry family. He shot the big guns and one day blew up his own house while I was at school. Then came the Scott family. Mr. Scott jumped from planes and one day never landed. The Wayne family were my next guardians. I was very happy there until one day they told me to wait for them on the other side of a bridge. I am still waiting. Finally, they set me up in an orphanage with Sister Rose. I was doing fine there until I got mislaid by a gang called the Knobheads that led me to petty crimes and stuff. I finally got put in a Reform school for a couple of years.

Upon my release, I was sent to stay with a nice older couple called the Garfields. Life was ideal with them, full of fun and games. We moved to a small town in Ontario and things started to pickup. I met me a good friend called Joe Haycock. We figured out that we both liked music and formed a musical group called ‘The Two Extremes’. We released a rare, very hard to find album called ‘Black and White (And Other Colours)’. It didn’t get much airplay. It featured Haycock playing the Electric Can Opener and me playing the Hair Brush Percussion Stick. It was a classic consisting all of original material. When this album failed, we decided to expand. Our friends Joe Sleepy and Joe Dunk (The Wiener) joined the grouped. I switched to bass with Haycock on keyboards. Sleepy played guitar and Dunk played drums. After a while we added another friend Joe Harrison (no relation to George) to play another guitar, and called ourselves 'The Black Plague'. We never really got it together. I mean we were good friends and all that, but we didn’t have any instruments. So after a year with no gigs or practice, we called it quits.

By this time, my new ‘parents’ had decided to retire and raise budgies. So I thought it was time that I moved on. I took off for some travel. I went to Wales where I had an affair with a miner’s daughter. And then left suddenly for London, England. There I met a nice young English lass called Wendy. I didn’t know her last name. We were having a great time together until one night she said something to me that I didn’t quite get. My hearing was still not the best from playing in front of an Electric Can Opener for so long. I thought Wendy said, "Do you want to see a picture of my Wet….Willie………..?" I felt nauseous and went to the washroom to lose my lunch. I escaped out the window and hit the road with my thumb.

I decided to hitchhike around the world. I was somewhere in Northern Ontario that fateful day that the bright red truck appeared. The rest is told well in ‘Wet Boogie in G’.

After I met Woody B., Kenny B., and Willie B. Wet (not to mention Brother Ray – so I won’t) we had some great times. Eventually they introduced me to their English cousin Wendy B. Wet. And yes it was the same Wendy. She soon explained that she only wanted to show me pictures of her Wet cousins, Willie, Woody, and Kenny. And she’s been my long-time companion ever since.

That’s my sad story. That’s why I write songs about society and life and people.