Sunshine, on my shoulders, ma-yakes me hap-ppy
Sunshine, in my-yi eyes, can ma-yake me cry-yi-yi
Sunshine, on my tootsies, ma-yakes them wa-arm-ermer
Sunshine, almost alwa-yays ma-yakes me high-yi-yi-i.
Choc-late, seems to ma-yake, my migraine wor-urse,
Guess that me-eans, I’m allergic once a-gain-yain, n,n,n.
So an-other, an-other few years, before I can have more-ore-ore.
That makes my head just want to cry-yi-i-i-i-i.
I’d set-tle for a straw- a strawber-strawberr-y,
But then, then I would, look like a, a huge one, huge one my self, f,f,f,f.
Cause that’s, that’s an-another, thing I I’m al- allergic too,
One more, one more thing to ma-yake my cry–i-i-i-i,
I decided, cided to k- nit a sock
Just one, to see if it turned out to look right,
If it does-oes, I’ll make another
So I won’t cry—yi-yi-yi.
So far, I’ve ripped out 6 socks, with great big holes in them,
That yarn is, so stretched out it, makes me laugh,
So now, I’m using a new ball of pretty yarn,
So far, it hasn’t made me want to cry-yi-yi-yi.
Hum, I doubt I’ll ever be a part of Poets United, if there is such a thing. Actually, confession time. I have written poetry; and was known for it at one time in my life, but that’s the past, and I’ve stopped living in the past. But the sun is shining and John Denver’s Sunshine On My Shoulders has been running through my brain all day, and since it’s impossible to take a photo of the sun without a special lens and special equipment, I try really hard to not stare at it. But after the lyrics of the song ran thru my head for several hours, I found myself making up my own lyrics. I find myself doing that frequently, especially when the music gets stuck. I do love that song, but after several hours any song begins to get irritating.
Several years ago I was in a van with several other AmeriCorps volunteers for a workshop several hours from home. At one toll booth we saw a chicken, which had me humming “Turkey In The Straw”. After a few minutes we all started supplying lyrics to it. Chicken in a toll booth, lookin’ for a ride, or maybe just lookin’ for, a way to the other side”. I don’t remember the rest of the lyrics, but in the end it became an ingredient in our Meals On Wheels program. Poor little chicken. And such a mystery as to how it came to be in a toll booth. I suppose we could have written a short story about how it happened, but couldn’t decide whether to make it humor or mystery. Mysterious humor?
Thought I would share my grandson, Ethan’s acting, singing, debut with you. Last year I think. His High School did a performance of Oklahoma, and while I have watched the movie so many times I can almost follow the dialogue, I can’t remember the name of the Persian peddler that Ethan played. But watching him dance, kiss a girl, and hearing him sing onstage (had to do it by way of DVD) was so awe inspiring for me. He’s in a men’s chorus at UK this year, not the famous one, but one of the several groups they have. He started out with the clarinet, but one day just gave that to Anika, and went on to chorus while in high school. So Anika carried on with band and orchestra, and now concentrates more on tennis. My head spins when I try to remember what those 4 kids all do, and I wonder how Gina keeps up with them all.
Of course, my grandparents only had 13 kids to keep up with, so I guess the rest of us have had it easy when you get right down to it. I think someone must have typed the wrong year in there (Ray?) and either my mom or my aunt tried to correct, so I guess it was either 1967 or 1966. They had moved to town by then, across the street from a park full of squirrels. Papa had hunted squirrels most of his life, so he thought heaven had come down to meet him right there, and it would be nice to go hunting in the park. Grandmother called one of my uncles early one morning telling him to get over there in a hurry. Papa had his shotgun and was on his way across the street to hunt squirrels. Don’t remember how many uncles it took, but they got there in time to take the shotgun away and bet Papa back home before anyone saw him and called the police. Soon after that he started sitting out on his front porch with a bag of nuts, feeding them. They would all come running when they saw Papa come out the door, and he would have squirrels perched all over him, feeding each one a nut in turn. Ah, the good old days.