Making Lemonade

 Yesterday I posted about the obnoxious harvest fair and the accompanying noise. It's the same sort of crap we've had to deal with periodically through the summer--same old noise, same old songs, same old garbage. In order to try to hang on to some bits of sanity when the same annoying noises are invading my home, I came up with a poem using the song titles and lyrics that we have heard over and over and over and over and.... throughout the summer. I think the story reads like a country western song. Here it is:

Bar Music 1

The rhinestone cowboy rode into town,

the doors were closed and the shutters were down.

He was looking for his Sweet Caroline,

wondering if he would run out of time.

He'd been to Folsom Prison, you see,

but once he got there, he decided to flee

and falling into a burning ring of fire,

was not quite enough to quench his desire.

Down the country roads he went,

kept going when all his money was spent.

He sped towards his home in that dirty old town,

but when he got there, he could only frown.

Sweet Caroline had not long waited--

another man's dinner was already plated.

He begged, he pleaded, he sank to his knees,

while she and her new love ignored all his pleas.

So he drew on some lessons he'd learned in the past--

know when to hold 'em, fold 'em, then walk away fast.

'I know when I'm beaten,' he said to himself,

,'I won't stay here to be put on the shelf!'

He jumped into his car to speed into the night

seeking paradise by those dashboard lights.

Who knows where he landed, who knows where he went, 

while Sweet Caroline built a new life with her gent.

August 2023

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