As with my poems, I have no idea where this came from; it certainly came quickly this morning. The basic story is hardly original with that twist at the end, I know; but here it is for what it’s worth.
Style: Country & Western (or spoof Bob Dylan?)
There was an old musician who woke up feeling bad;
He asked to see the holy man, and the holy man was glad.
The holy man said, by the bed, ‘How can I help, my son?’
‘Oh Holy Man, please tell me: in Heaven, do they have fun?’
The holy man said, ‘How d’you mean? I need some more detail.’
‘Oh Holy Man, in Heaven can you get good strong ale?
And I know that they play harps in the pictures I have seen;
But how about a Martin guitar for the fine boy I have been?’
‘And while you are here, Padré, please answer me this too –
Does Heaven lay on open mics where you can sing the blues?
And is there electricity, power sockets in the walls,
For a Fender with a Marshall amp to fill those vaulted halls?’
‘My son, my son, they have great fun in Heaven, it is true:
There’s every sort of music, and that includes the blues.
There are power points and USBs as far as you can see,
And from champagne through to Guinness, the drinks they all are free!’
‘In fact up there in Heaven, there is everything one needs:
A veritable paradise from Alpha through to Zee;
But, my son, I do not understand why this should interest you –
I’m darned sure it’s the other place that you’ll be going to…
Yes, I’m darned sure it’s the other place that you’ll be going to!’
© Christopher Jessop 2023
