Friday, August 7, 2009

Someone's Singing! Oh Lordy! Koombayah!

Was it Sarah Cavanaugh's visit? Coyote's new guitar? Or some stifled musical attraction emerging from deep within, perhaps called forth by bellowing cows?

I'm writing songs now, apparently, songs I hope never make me famous, or even all that proud.

Coyote brought me his guitar and a request I play a song. I don't know how to play a guitar, which he immediately pointed out. My options were thereby limited. I couldn't play a familiar tune because everyone would know just how wrong it was. So I made something up. It's different every time. Sometimes I strum low for the toad and high for the bunny and sometimes I switch it up. Sometimes I repeat each "stanza", a la "there was a bear in tennis shoes and underwear," and sometimes I don't. Sometimes it rhymes and sometimes it doesn't. But the moral is always the same, the theme of my life thus far, what I've been learning through the past 15 years. Maybe it's not your theme. Maybe it's not your major in life, but I seem to have earned a BS in Nonsense from the School Unpredictable Results.

So... here's the song the kids keep requesting. Sung like Olive Oyle in Robin Williams' Popeye but with a randomly strung guitar instead of a tight mandolin.


There once was a cute, fluffy bunny
hopping down the road, wild and free.
In the road there was a toad,
a wide old toad in the road. (repeat, or not)

The toad said to the bunny,
"I used to be free, my friend,
I, too, used to be free. Once."

"How was that?" the bunny asked,
"How was that?"
"I used to be free, my friend,"
repeated the toad, "I used to be free."

"When was that?" the bunny tried again,
"When was that?"
"Let's see. About 1973.
Or maybe 1974. It was the year Great Aunt Velma had only 12 kids, so that must have been 1975.
I believe."

"Oh. No." Said the cute fluffy bunny hopping free,
"Oh. No. You're not that old.
Mr. Toad in the road. No you're just not that old."

"It wasn't when I was a toad."
He croaked, "No, not when I was a toad.
I was a bunny then. Just like you.
Yes, a bunny, wild and free."

"You were free then?" Asked the bunny.
"Yes," said the toad.
"yes. But what I have to tell you, it is sad, it is bad:
Freedom's just another word for getting run over by a car. apologies to Janie Joplin.
Oh! Freedom's just another word for getting run over!!"

"Oh! My gosh!" Cried the bunny.
"Oh! My gosh!"

Suddenly, a Chevy, careened down the road AND
The toad was gone and the bunny hopped on.
Free. Free. Free. Oh! my gosh! Free! Alive and free!
Singing, "Freedom's just another word for anything can happen!"

So, my son and daughter, make some plans,
and then remember, if you can,
You might as well be cute and fluffy and free,
Because there are no guarantees
And anything can happen,
so you might as well be you.
You might as well live free.


It's probably not a great song for creating docile and obedient kids. But they'll morph into grown ups and will spend most of their lives making their own decisions. And maybe this will be in there somewhere... and time will hopefully soften the tune and correct the key.

Okay, so perhaps not really blog-worthy. And certainly not my magnum opus (right? please!?). But it replaces the Baseball Opera.

Update from the Masters of Bovinity program:
More fencing went up one evening for our wandering Sukey, but it didn't go all the way around. And since Huck wasn't going to be home for a bit starting the next day, we improvised. Cue banjo music. A few pallets, some chicken wire, some plastic mesh and VIOLA, paradise turns in to a trash heap!
As an accent, I covered 3000 square feet of our field in black plastic.

Oh! What will the neighbors think!!!

Also, I got a full cup of milk from Hendrika today. And then she tried to gore me with her imaginary horns. Again.

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