When nothing here is certain
but that time is rolling on,
ring up your eyelids’ curtain
and greet rosy-fingered Dawn,
and ivory-footed Sarah
in her floor-length purple gown,
tapping time on polished floorboards
waiting till the sun goes down.
Let’s forget the slings and arrows,
and we’ll rosin up the bow!
Call the tune and pay the piper
so he’ll play a song we know.
Pay respect and pay attention
when you pay a living wage
to the slatterns in the kitchen
and the yokels on the stage.
If you’ll be my two-bar pickup,
I’ll play rhythm to your lead,
and we’ll truck across the ballroom
as our righteous feet take speed.
Cut a rug or cut a caper,
if you’ll just cut to the chase –
get your picture in the paper
where the footling folk embrace.
You can cross my palm with silver,
since I’m easily led to gold,
and I’ll be your major miner
till the Kingdom’s keys are sold.
Here’s a penny for your thoughts
and a dollar for your day,
but that’s what you get for thinking
when you dance the night away.
March 28, 2006
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