(lxxvii)


Argument of the work: the Poet, burnt out beyond description, completes a morning’s labor and retires to his cloister with a cup of coffee, thinking to take clean breath. Seated among his implements, he is smitten by The Blues.

Pulling a harmonica from his pocket, he blows a quavering ‘A’.


His song:

Well the toilets were filthy this morning
It was no sight for virgin eyes
Yes, the toilets were filthy this morning
And no sight for virgin eyes
There was shit splashed to the ceiling
Should have left it for the flies.

Dumped a lot of trash this morning
Swept and mopped all of the floors
Dumped a lot of trash this morning
Swept and mopped all of the floors
Then I wiped out all the ashtrays
And I even cleaned the doors.

It’s a Schoolman's fine distinction
Twixt a woman and a broom
Yes, it’s a Schoolman’s fine distinction
Twixt a woman and a broom
But when you’re swept out by the blues:
Can’t be too sure who’s pushin whom.


His song complete, he replaces the harmonica in his pocket. Lighting a cigarette, he wonders: Won’t somebody tell me what diddy-wah-diddy mean?