Talkin Sailboat Blues

Bought a sailboat the other day

Had dreams of simply sailing away

To a foreign land where the sun is bright

And people always treat you right

You know, the simple life


Figured I would need a trailer too

To carry it from land to the ocean blue

And a hitch to attach it to the car

From where I live the water’s pretty far

So I opened my wallet again and again

But my enthusiasm never waned

Ropes and gloves and accessories

And of course the license and registration fees

Nothin’ simple about this life


Finally got it the whole thing set

Started looking for a place to get it wet

Well you have to join a club, or pay a fee

If you want access to the deep blue sea

But I found a beach and when no one was around

I put that boat back on the ground

Dragged it down to the water line

Thinkin’ I’m home free and everything’s fine

Paradise, here I come

Climbed aboard and promptly fell in

But getting wet is not a sin

But the way I rigged it apparently is

As a sailor, I ain’t no whiz

The sail was on upside down

The rudder and the tiller were wrong way round

It leaked, and the knots all came undone

No way this thing would ever run

Details, details


So I hauled it home, went back to square one

Postponed my dream of lying in the sun

Wind blowing gently through my hair

Enjoying Mother Nature without a care

The moral of this tale, far as I can see

Nothing’s ever as simple as it seems to be

Running off to paradise

Just ain’t what it used to be.

Think maybe I’ll get me a motorcycle

*****Here’s an example of a real ‘Talkin Blues”, the Talking Candy Barb Blues… sorry I couldn’t find the Peter Paul and Mary version.*******



“So,” she said, staring straight ahead as if she expected the road to do something interesting, ”it started this morning when you drove all the way down the mountain for coffee instead of making a cup in our well-stocked and beautifully furnished kitchen.”

“Yes,” he said.  “When I drove all way down the mountain to arrogantly and selfishly purchase a large decaf and a cinnamon bun so I could sit quietly among my neighbors and listen to them chatter about the day’s events without the person sitting across from me ‘harrumphing’ and clucking her tongue every few seconds.  That’s when I heard it.  On the way back.”

“A hum, you said?”

“A high pitched hum, yes. Intermittent.  Didn’t seem to be coming from anywhere particular.  I crawled under the truck, but couldn’t see anything that looked like it was broken.”

She continued looking straight ahead, not giving him the satisfaction of a glance in his direction.

“There was also a light show,” he said.

“A what?”

“Sitting in that booth, right by the window, the whole sky suddenly lit up.”

“But it was already morning.  The sun was up.”

“Yup.  But it got even brighter.  Much brighter, and stayed that way for a minute or two.  Then it got even brighter.  Didn’t seem like it could, but it did.  Then it all went back to normal.”

“And the noise started then?”

“Yep.  On the way back up the mountain, after my arrogant and selfish large decaf and cinnamon bun eaten quietly among my neighbors who were chattering about the day’s events.”

She looked over at him now,

“So, Frank’s?  Before it gets worse?”

“Which Frank’s?  The restaurant Frank’s that doesn’t serve hot dogs but only hamburgers, or Frank’s Auto Shop and Outdoor Lawn Dart Supply House?”

“Well, Frank’s Auto Shop and Outdoor Lawn Dart Supply House, of course.”

“I suppose.  Frank’s before it gets worse.”

On the way to Frank’s, the hum seemed to get louder.  Much louder.  By the time they pulled into the station, they both felt the need to cover their ears, and could barely hear each other

“Get that thing the hell out of here!”  Frank yelled at them, his hands over his ears, too.   “You’re the third one today!  I can’t stand that noise!!”

He pulled the truck into the woods a few hundred yards away, and they both ran screaming from the noise back to the repair station.

Seven miles up, in what looked like a floating chunk of asphalt, and was about the same size, GN^L looked down on the two running figures.

“So,” she said in a burst of sound that ran the gamut from the underwater moan of a sea cow to the shriek of thirteen thousand tea kettles coming to a boil in Ipswitch England while thirteen thousand Ipswitch matrons simultaneously shouted, ‘Oh, give it a rest, I’m coming!’, “it started this morning when you flew all the way down the spiral arm for a cup of human and some cinnamon scented music of the spheres, instead of enjoying one of the samples we have in our well stocked and beautifully furnished kitchen.”

“Yes,” said VGRπ.  “When I flew all the way down the spiral arm to arrogantly and selfishly indulge in  a cup of human and some cinnamon scented music of the spheres……. but I couldn’t hear anything,” he said sadly, in a voice that was like a moon crashing into a planetoid filled with megaphones and electronic sound amplification equipment.

“So,” she said in a voice that was like a volcano during an earthquake in a thunderstorm,”you intervened.”

He nodded with a sound of a cloud passing over a thousand pigeons sitting on telephone wires while the thousand people talking across those telephone wires held their breath.  And then he said, “I went to Frank’s.”

“So, you bought some noise makers.”

“Yes.  I bought some noise makers for their vehicles.  At Frank’s.”

“Frank’s Pan-Galactic Paintball  Warehouse and  Knee Replacement Accessories, or Frank’s House of Aural Armageddon?”

Before he could answer, using a voice that could possibly rival a monster truck rally inside one of the giant speakers at a heavy metal concert while all the gods and goddesses of Mount Olympus were gargling, a noise erupted from the planet below loud enough to cause  the emptiness of space itself to vibrate.

Softly and in unison, VGRπ and GN^L said, “Ahhhh.”