Aye Claudicus! ©

Danny Reynolds
Dalton in Furness, England
2005

On the eighth day, God made Bass guitarists,
And upon them, laid a curse.
“Nothing shalt go right for thee,
except for when thou rehearse!”

Prepare thyself for inward rage,
As each time thee step on the stage,
Twas not by chance, they christened thee “Claud,”
From the line of Hopper, a true clumsy sod.

Thy musical prowess, shan’t save thee pal.
If ‘owt can go wrong, then be sure, it shall.
I bestow upon thee, a bad-luck token,
So your path across the stage,
Ensures something gets broken.

Whether PA system or Lighting rig,
No calamity shall be too big,
Thy presence seals the poor bands fate,
(If you were a sequencer, they’d go down great.)

What pitiful creature, before me stands,
With paranoid grin, and wringing hands,
One looping thought played with each tune,
“We’re gonna go down like a Lead Balloon!”

But do not despair, for what you are,
Try to smile, though life is a bummer.
Tis a shame thou couldst not play a proper guitar,
Still be thankful,
You could have been a drummer.