Just Reminiscing with Roy Bale
The creation below started as a column for writer Dan O’Connor of Nevada. Dan is a native of Tipperary Ireland, been in America a wheelbarrow load of years. He wrote a column for the paper, submitted it, they rejected it. Dan was discouraged, just canned it, then sent it to me. I looked it over, it had much good, some bad -- I could see why the paper rejected it. I took out the beer drinking and Irish Pubs and racy women, rearranged many lines, added words, sent it back, he was amazed. He said “It’s now yours.” I said, “no, it’s ‘ours.’” For my column, I added three lines, September, my dear sister Ophelia in Nevada, and my niece the girl named Sue in Nevada, who is dying of cancer. The story below could be your story, or mine. Anyone’s, really. Enjoy. Oh, yeah, “Mama” was one of my additions also. Angie will like that.
Union dues, love sick blues, blue suede shoes, and smoothies.
Morning dew, how are you, please don’t be blue, be happy.
What’s that you saw? Please don’t break the law, just take hold my paw, I’m lonely.
All words have a meaning, the kitchen needs cleaning, just now I’m a leaning, “tomorrow.”
Life’s out of control, I’m out on parole, I need some console, please help me.
I’m back in the city, now where is my Kitty, oh what a pity, can’t find her.
My words come out wrong, this isn’t a song, don’t be too long, I’m waiting.
In our town’s a clown, who is dressed in a gown, and wearing a frown, he’s silly
I’ll whistle and sing, please give me a ring, and say anything, I’ll listen.
Where is my mind, I left it behind, I’m trying to unwind, be kindly
I’m down on my knees, please cure my disease, I’m begging you please, just help me.
My words are so muddled, my thoughts are befuddled, I need to be cuddled, please hold me.
Before long I’ll be gone, you won’t hear my song, it won’t take too long, no hurry
Beg steal or borrow, I’ll miss you tomorrow, and look back in sorrow, I’m lonely
I’ll stay here no longer, I’m off to “Out Yonder,” I’ll think long and ponder, and worry
Nothing makes sense, too much suspense, and where’s my defense? My armor
Promises broken, words are misspoken, please offer a token, of hope.
I went to the mountain, drank from the fountain, now there is no fountain, can’t find it
Today and tomorrow, there’s sadness and sorrow, please can I just borrow, a dream?
Please help me Mister, I’m not a resister, but where is my sister? I miss her.
The girl named Sue, she now has no clue, when she leaves me and you. She’s dying
Farewell to the Corp, I’m home from the war, what was it all for? I wonder.
Now please listen Judge, please don’t hold a grudge, just give me a nudge, I’m leaning.
There’s no use in staying, that’s only delaying, I’ll be someday repaying, I’m hoping
No use to delay, the storm’s on its way, we’re all going to pay, someday
I remember September, and memories so tender, and loves sweet surrender, and you.
Daylight is breaking, my poor heart is aching, it’s all so forsaking, poor me.
Wish me good luck, it’s all in the book, the one that I took, and wrote.
My race has been run, life’s been such great fun, but the noon day sun, is missing.
With a whisper goodbye, I’ll look to the sky, with tears in my eye, it’s misting
There Mama is waiting, there’s no hesitating, I hope I’ve been rating, by Him
My column now ends, on you it depends, if it needs amends, you fix it.
Like it or not, I’ve told you my lot, that’s all that I’ve got, its ended.
It would be neat if you would contact the man from Tipperary and thank him. The soon to be world famous writer Dan O’Connor can be reached at danhughoconnor@¬gmail.com