- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Don't Tell Me I Can't Sing the Blues
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Don't Tell Me I Can't Sing the Blues
Hey there driver, give me the screws
I shed real tears now when I cry.
Don't tell me I can't sing the blues.
I order reds; they send me blues:
blue Ferrari? I could just die.
Hey there driver, give me the screws.
French mechanic, "Merci beau coups,"
every time he sees me come by.
Don't tell me I can't sing the blues.
That mechanic hasn't a clue,
Had my Jag since first of July.
Hey there driver, give me the screws.
Then there's my BMW's
engine troubles that multiply.
Don't tell me I can't sing the blues.
My chauffeur you cannot excuse,
speaks some lingo -- think from Shanghai.
Hey there driver, give me the screws,
don't tell me I can't sing the blues.
- COMMENTS
LeBrozover 16 years agoThis poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 38,000 poems.
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LeBrozover 16 years agoA Ferrari, Jag, BMW too<br>
and you want to sing the blues?<br>
Oh to have your problems.<br>
Anonymousover 18 years ago...in the new poems thread. (in the Poetry Feedback & Discussion Forum)
Tess
