Possibly as part of the withdrawal symptons at not being able to play my 7000, or access the zone for some 5-6 weeks (OK now) I woke up one morning reciting poetry out loud. My wife was a bit concerned, after all she knows that apart from stuff about daffodils and the Light Brigrade, poetry is just not my thing. What was particularly astonishing to me was that this poem was heard once only during a film I saw in the early forties, and not knowingly thought of until that fateful morning. So, why not, I thought, bring a touch of culture to these pages?
Best heard spoken with a heavy New York (Brooklyn) accent, hence the spelling used it goes like this :-
De grass is green,
de sun is riz.
I wunnder where de boidies is?
Dey say de boid is on de wing,but dat's absoid. De wing is always on de boid.
Oh well.
Peter
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