SOMETIMES A
GREAT NOTATION
Ports of call - or, if
you're in a tavern, calls
for port, either way - a
mis-managed piano hand
like mine could away with
it. Then Mr. Clodman did
crush my fingers with his
stumbling boot-heels. I went
into the kitchen to sing 'Heels
To the Chef.' Admitting to
having forgotten the words,
it came out as Hail To the
Chief, and it stuck. Good grief!
What did I mean by that?!
Abe Burrows, and William
Burroughs too, I noticed,
were digging a hole in some
sacred ground. 'Looking to
make more burrows, are you?
I'll go fetch one.' I said that.
No comments:
Post a Comment