Songs Made New

Cancer's cost me a lot since the beginning of the year, so I thought I'd have some fun.

While I can, said the melodramatic poet.

Barb's wakeup tune on her phone got modified...

Lord, I lift Your name on High

with a fifth of Southern Rye.

You had better drink it neat

before You have to meet 

 me and all of my mad mates

at those big pearly gates 

'cause we know You're gonna cry

when we drink Your Heaven dry!

Oh, very well. Here's the original.

More?

Well, the 5 am Chihuahuas are an inspiration...

Let Chihuahuas run,

let all their barking

wake the neighbours!

They sleep too long

any...way!

I feel kinda bad for Carly Simon.

Syl doesn't feel bad at all.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is FAVOUR.

The Good Lord has done me the favour 

of granting humour to resist 

the galling path of cancer's labour,

but there are those who might insist

that I back off on the laughs,

and pay meet homage to the sacred,

but I will sign death's autographs

with a grin, and make the naked

admission that there's naught to lose,

for God must have a sense of fun,

and maybe sometimes wears clown shoes 

and snaps a wad of bubble gum,

and if I'm wrong as about said bubble,

boy, might I be in big trouble.

Syl has no words, but she's a dog.