January 21, 2004

  • the last few days my mother and I have been at my grandmother’s deathbed.  this morning it’s over.


    something James said made me think of this song…


    a little gossip, from man of la mancha


    SANCHO
    Your Reverence, could I talk to him?

    PADRE
    I’m afraid he won’t hear you.

    SANCHO
    (moving toward the bed)
    Then, I won’t say much.

    PADRE
    And no mention of knight-errantry!

    SANCHO
    Of course not. Does one speak of the rope
    in the house of the hanged?
    Just a few words… to lighten his heart.

    A little gossip… a little chat…
    A tittle idle talk of this and that…
    I’ll tell him all the troubles I have had,
    And since he doesn’t hear,
    At least he won’t feel bad.

    (to Don Quixote)
    When I first got home my wife Teresa beat me,
    But the blows fell very lightly on my back.
    She kept missing ev’ry other stroke
    And crying from the heart
    That while I was gone
    She’d gone and lost the knack!
    Of course, I hit her back, Your Grace,
    but she’s a lot harder than I am,
    and you know what they say…
    “Whether the stone hits the pitcher
    or the pitcher hits the stone
    it’s going to be bad for the pitcher”
    So I’ve got bruises from here to…

    (to the Padre)
    A little gossip… a little chat…
    A little idle talk of this and that…
    If no one listens,
    Then it’s just as well,
    At least I won’t get caught in any lies I tell!

    (to Don Quixote)
    Oh, I haven’t fought a windmill in a fortnight
    And the humble joys get duller ev’ry day,
    Why, when I’m asleep a dragon
    With his fiery tongue a-waggin’
    Whispers, “Sancho.
    Won’t you please come out and play?”

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