Is a man with a plan
To cash in a bit of Kensington
On some high grade booze
Cos right now he's got a couple of scores
But not a great deal more to loose
You see, our Dan is a master of the modern day quill
He works an open office, clocking in and out at will
But after reading all the greats from his and every bygone age
He lives in a time where the mp3 subverts the written page
So night and day he hums away
Searching for that hit chorus
And he knows you can't cut corners
When it comes to tanking up on creative juices
A Desperado is larger beer spiked with tequila
Some say it's for scoundrels to make charming girls easier
But our Dan's quest is noble.
He has a dream we'd all like to believe in
He simply wants to do his whole life’s work in just one evening
And a Desperado seems to conjure all six hats within one head
So if two minds are better than one...well, nuff said
He dilutes them at first, pulling the wool over his own eyes
Until, catching reflections on the glass, he sees through the disguise.
And before long you'll find him chugging straight from the bottle
Then, in a blur of paper and pen, Dan writes like there's no tomorrow.
He writes and writes and writes some more
a couplet, a bridge, an underscore
Ploughing verses like trenches through the virgin white paper
Dropping napalms just to see what pops it's head above the wreckage.
Then, surveying the new landscape, he quarries in every direction…
Linearly; because it's most straightforward like that
Circularly; because they used to think the world was flat
Logically; because... Well duh!
Laterally; which gives the brain a stir
Diagonally; some kinda a + b = c rap from back in the day
In reverse; because sometimes we unknowingly face the wrong way
Down dead ends
Just to see the view
He picks up clichés and looks under them for clues
Calls for desperate measures
As the evening wears on
He indulges all his earthly pleasures
And down they go with a Yo Ho Ho
What a dirty desperado!
Dirty I say! Now he's mixing with rum
Still his pencil flies with a blistered thumb
'E starts to drop 'is H's
And forgets to cross his l's...sorry t's
He paces back and forwards
An he talks like mushy peas
Rummaging frantically through chaotic pockets
Conjunctives falling to the floor
He can't find the word he's after, but who cares? There’s plenty more!
He begins to vengefully split infinitives in two
And hurl metaphors across the kitchen
Sending mountains of screwed up balls of paper flying
Like snowballs after the thaw
Which slowly melt into puddles of lonely vowels and consonants.
Long after he has gone.
But all that was before the "Doodley Dee"
And his dream came true with a change of key
The song which people can't help to hum
From OAPs to the I-generation
And people hummed it all over
And in all sorts of weather
Until someone decided we should hum it forever.
And they paid Desperado Dan for every hum
Not bad work for a blistered thumb
So now our Dan seems a lot less desperate.
From time to time he evens finds an hour or two to rest a bit
Sitting on the veranda of his studio in the south of France.
Applying the finishing touches to another comedy romance.
Sipping a very fine Sauvignon, no Desperado in sight.
They're all safely packed away in the cellar
Just in case he gets the urge
Late at night.