I think musicians of centuries ago could have easily had the gold coins, fancy tights and fast horses if they had named themselves like bands today. Maybe then they wouldn't have been just rogue minstrels happy for the remains of some leg of lamb at the king's banquet after hours of entertaining. Names like Warm Mead, Alchemist's Fire, or The Castleboys 6, could have soared them to fame throughout their fiefdom. They could have packed the largest barns with screaming lads and maidens falling at their feet. Instead they were content with names like The Folkstone Folksingers or Jack and his Bladder Pipers. Geez. Well I'm not going to sweat all day at a hot oven baking my plum tarts and peddling them down at the market, and then shell out my few meager shillings on bands with those sorry names. They'd be lucky to get work at a barrelmaker's guild meeting if you ask me. Darn lucky. (although I wouldn't mind having Jack give me a private concert...)