Ringo Blues

He's bought himself a set of drums -
Seems that's the latest fad
For them with teenage craniums
Just to annoy their Dad.
So now it's straight into his room
When he gets home from school:
A raucous thunderous sonic boom -
Could make die dead rise from die tomb
...And those alive to fear their doom -
A racket dial is cruel;
An audio nightmare of gloom
As decibels and senses zoom,
My ears and I can now assume...
That Ringo's on his stool.

As drums resound and cymbals crash,
The airwaves saturate;
Bush poetry's a culture clash -
He says I'm out of date.
His hair is fifteen shades of blue...
He only wears what's cool...
He bangs away the evening through...
He says I wouldn't have a clue...
But oh!! that noise!! I'm tellin' you...
When Ringo's on his stool!!

With peace and quiet vanished now
From in our neighborhood,
I get no more milk from the cow,
The dog's left home for good,
The chooks have all stopped layin' eggs,
The goldfish left his pool,
The cat has even found his legs,
My home-made beer has turned to dregs.
Is that a tune ? - the question begs...
When Ringo's on his stool.

The ducks from on the billabong
Have all flown south for Spring;
No more we hear the magpie's song -
He's lost his urge to sing.
T.V.'s a relic of the past -
Those drums win every duel;
Not even ghetto-blasters blast
As loud or even half as fast...
While ear-drums flutter at half mast...
When Ringo's on his stool.

The Flick man has no need to call -
Our cockroaches have gone;
The termites that live in the wall -
They too are moving on.
It could well drive a man to drink...
But who am I to fool ?
I have already crossed that brink -
I cannot hear myself to think -
And oh...this week, his hair is pink...
That's Ringo on his stool.

So I thought I would be the bird
And grow myself some wings,
Until today...! got the word
That somehow changes things.
The music shop is on the phone:
This afternoon it comes -
An instrument that's all my own -
He need no longer play alone -
We'll form a band that's all home-grown
I'm flexing up my gums;
Though I'm tone-deaf as any stone,
I'll join the raucous monotone -
Me playing my new saxophone...
While Ringo...plays his drums.

Copyright; Graham Fredriksen
From his book 'Paradise Revisited'