Monday, February 25, 2013


(to Elvis Costello's "Veronica")

On a farm near the city limits south of town
Bart had skill, played the blues with a harp
And he gave it all he had
And you might have sworn
He could shake the tectonica

Well he liked to use a sixteen hole for the crowds
For intensity, riffs they would fly
He played, so he said,
With the finest reeds
Said they’re made with bronzonica

He played in shows,
Bar mitzvah bands,
On stage harmonica
His will imposed
And all the girls
Stood on their toes
They weeped and danced
And cried for more

Well, the fame rose high
And an album came
And he toured down the coast through the fall
Yes, he lived quite the dream
And no more was he poor
Living large, was divine-ica

Well, on the road for ninety-nine days he played
Losing friends to the world he had found
While the fans all cheered
You could see on his face
That he longed for some calmica

On the tour bus in Florida
The lad, he had a dream about the path
And saw a fork in road for him to choose
A note, so soft, grew loud and then…

He quickly rose
His sweating skin
He eyed harmonica
There by his side
And knew the time
To end the shows           
His dance with fame
Had come to close

Harmonica waits by his favorite chair
Bart smiles in the quiet and still
And he thinks of the fame
That had never seemed right
But when he plays
He remembers that thrill

Now he likes to have his closest friends at his home
They don’t dwell on the things of the past
Having fun with tunes, his notes’ll break the night
And they’ll shake the tectonica

Though fame arose
With clapping hands
The gift harmonica
Was lovely ride
Now quiet time
Is life he chose
He sits with friends
And keeps them close

No comments:

Post a Comment