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The preacher announced with a kindly voice
the children in the first row
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Whose clothes are these on floor and chair?
He’s sleeping in the bedroom there
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Have you heard the leaves piled on the ground on a wet November day?
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This ode goes to the bumblebee
to salute his tenacity
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In a land where the sun’s always shining, On an isle where young hearts should be free,
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On the dusty slopes where there's still cowpokes, where there's yet more sky than land, In the Big Sky State, back in thirty-eight, they were hiring at Fort Peck Dam.
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Once, in the twilight of my years,
There came a stranger selling tears.
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Mother Nature, perhaps for a jape, Made Neanderthal man look much like an ape.
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Where Have You Gone, Danny, dear Danny? I’ve missed you since you’ve gone away.
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When I'm all alone in my reverie, I often still recall The things we children did for fun, and my favorite of them all.
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f I could invent a flower,
If I could select its hue,
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The world looks great to a boy of eight; It's made of dreams and wishin'.
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There's something grandma used to do That always made me smile.
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Little Michael on a rug Spotted an electric plug.
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I've worn a lot of costumes just dressing up for fun.
And not only for Halloween, though that's a special one.
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My dad’s a poop detective;
Forensics is his game.
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I went to visit Jon today;
I went to see if he could play.
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If the world had no more poets There’s so much we wouldn’t know
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Mister Nobody lives right here in my room In a corner, somewhere on the floor.
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Louie La'Bard came to our town one year Singing lyrics to songs, as he played them by ear.
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When I was just a young-un I was pickin’ and a strumin’
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I'll nnever forget the look on his face The day Jamie cut off his thumb,
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I have such songs to sing to you, Before I grow too old.
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I wonder if your love for me is as strong while I'm away
As when you snuggled close to me back on our parting day?
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“How would you like your coffee, sir, with sugar or with cream?” “I’d like mine served with ketchup, please; it’s always been my dream.”
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At night my bed's a magic ship That sails the Midnight Sea.
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I left the home of the meadowlark For a land found more oft' in my dreams.
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I visited the father of a soldier, Killed while fighting in a war quite far away.
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Saddled up to a bar-room stool, at a place on the East side of town, Drinking beer from a can, sat a dangerous man known as "One-Punch Willy Brown."
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Of those among mankind I most admire Are such who’ve overcome the saddest grief,
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If I could write a song each day, until I’m ninety-two, Have each song playing on the radio—
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If I could be little, as little could be, There are places I’d go to and things I would see.
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I was reading up on Dave Thoreau, some good John Keats, and a little Poe.
They write about simplicity, a natural life, easy and free.
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My soul struggles, tormented in the night. Calliope echoes back primeval joy.
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