Singing with my Father
by cricketjeff on May 27, 2011. © Jeff Green, All rights reserved
If Mozart is playing my father conducts it,
The beat’s in my bones but my humour abducts it–
Not heavenly horns but the lyrics by Flanders,
I can’t get such words from my head.
I’m back in the car and my father is driving,
He’s singing off key and we’re not yet arriving;
Gilbertian verses to Sullivan’s music,
The words are all inside my head.
Suzanna is funnicle, noises and actions,
My diaphragm jerks in comedic contractions,
The scenery passes our goal’s getting closer;
It’s all tucked up safe in my head.
The motorway passes in music and squabbles,
For three hundred miles there are family wobbles,
Then mountains appear and a holiday’s started,
And Dad still sings, inside my head!
Author notes
Just for once a poem that actually is about me!
How many of you can spot the music it accompanies? The clues are all there.
English