Pa was forced to be a hobo
Because he played the oboe
And the oboe it is clearly understood
Is an ill wind that nobody blows good
Pa was forced to be a hobo
Because he played the oboe
And the oboe it is clearly understood
Is an ill wind that nobody blows good
To begin at the beginning: It is Spring, moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black, the cobblestreets silent…
We didn't have metaphors in our day. We didn't beat about the bush.
In an orchard there should be enough to eat, enough to lay up, enough to be stolen, and enough to…