They’re a funny thing!…with all those little gifts that they bring.
Head pressures, fireflies and aversion to sun
and that’s before they’ve even begun
I might have appreciated Kipling or Keats,
but instead, something musical its left as a treat.
A Clashing steel cymbal, a large kettle drum
A Brass section blaring out noises not hums
They’re playing a jam – as I try to sleep,
as night time moves slowly – the noise it just leaps
all as I try to rest my sore head
and hide under the pillows at the top of the bed
The band in my head – is jamming it loud
the horn sections blasting their flugelhorns proud
Never playing their sounds in the day
Preferring the night during sleep they will play.
But smile I will, as those horns they will jive
The sound of that music – means I’m still alive
Even though, it appears to me
My head’s stuck on Jazz Night on Radio 3