How I Look Half-Dressed

The next morning brought this:


It’s my experience that diaries have bugger-all written in the pages for January, so these pages make excellent breeding grounds for bits of songs.

This was scribbled between breakfast and dropping the kids off at school (they begin to feature heavily in the history of this ditty).  I tweaked the two verses so that the lines were roughly similar, but I’d have been much more obsessive and annoying about this if the song were a cabaret number in the 32-bar standard mold.  As it’s a rambling folk story, little differences between one verse and the next are acceptable – nay, necessary.

A tune?  I made one up while filling the car at BP Chisholm.  Yes, that crazy man humming at the bowser next to you was me.  Sorry.


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