remmers
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Forgotten Song
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Feb 15 02:55 UTC 1994 |
Copyright (c) 1994
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Oh drat, I can't remember the melody,
Have I contracted some amnesiatic malady?
The tune I used to croon
Has flown the coop.
It must be my dithering dotage
That has caused evaporation of the notage
That formerly second nature was,
I heard a fly buzz.
When I died I wanted it sung at my wake
That tune that I used to croon so well,
But the cantor'll have to go jump in the lake
Or might as well, on hearing my death knell.
I used to pick it out on the piano, each note
Known by rote, by innumerable repetition,
With never e'en a single elision,
Now it's gone, neither notes nor words
Are recollected, they've all flown like birds
Or like those who've defected and renounced
Their heritage, consigning it to perdition.
I feel I must fly as well, fly in pursuit
Of the notes, and words, and chords,
Fly far from the nattering hordes
Who madden me with their constant noises
In the guise of joys. Is
It possible I could find my song
Being played on some fiddle or lute
In Hong Kong, or perhaps Beirut?
Oh drat, what a flail t'would be!
No one else knows it, they couldn't,
For you see, t'was my song only,
Created by me for me,
So they wouldn't perform it, you see,
And I'd only build lonely on lonely
In some far country.
In death my song has me preceded,
Oh drat, I needed it, it is wrong
To outlive one's song.
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