By: Cedric McClester

Though she didn’t get
The essence wrong
He couldn’t help but to wonder
Why she sang his song
Some of the words
Were artfully rearranged
Or simply misplaced
Like a bunch of small change

Why would anyone want
To sing my song, but me?
Was the question he asked himself
Because he couldn’t see
How come so much interest
From the two or three
Who chose to record it
On vinyl or CD

Not that their versions
Were even half bad
They sang on key
Which made him mad
Because he couldn’t do it
And that’s quite sad
When you’re a balladeer
Who created a sing-song fad

It’s not about his singing
It’s his mastery of words
That developed his reputation
And gave birth to the Byrds
The depth of meaning
Always undergirds
The songs that he’s written
And the pots that he stirred

































Cedric McClester, Copyright ©2019.  All rights reserved.