Oh, how I love to take requests, while playing,
for songs outside the realm of what I do.
How subtle the reminder I’m not slaying,
in essence, “what we want to hear, ain’t you.”
It’s really quite an overwhelming feeling,
that overwhelms my fragile ego, too;
the knowledge that my style is not appealing,
and folks would rather hear the juke box play.
Each time, I roll my eyes toward the ceiling,
and send the hopeful querents on their way,
while promising their song, which I can’t stand,
is next in the rotation, anyway.
Have mercy, please upon all dance hall bands;
don’t make the sole condition of your staying
the way your favorites turn out in their hands.
27 NOV 2010