Dream Song 68: I heard, could be, a Hey there from the wing


I heard, could be, a Hey there from the wing,
And I went on: Miss Bessie soundin good
That one, that night of all,
I feelin fari myself, taxes & things
Seem to be back in line, like everybody should
And nobody in the snow on call

So, as I say, the house is given hell
To Yellow Dog, I blowin like it too
And Bessie always do
When she make a very big sound—after, well,
No sound—I see she totterin—I cross which stage
Even at Henry’s age

In 2-3 seconds: then we wait and see.
I hear strange horns, Pinetop he hit some chords,
Charlie start Empty Bed,
They all come hangin Christmas on some tree
After trees thrown out—sick-house’s white birds’,
Black to the birds instead.


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Dream Song 68: I heard, could be, a Hey there from the wing