Sally’s Talent Poem by Doug Stewart

She was a high-breasted back street thrush,
Who never really made it to Broadway,
She never really made anywhere plush,
But she tried, oh how she tried to sing the Blues
Like a waitress, belt show tunes like an understudy,
Sing Rock and Roll like a 3rd rate chanteuse, and all the time she failed

But she kept on dreamin’ and walkin’, with her head on the lyrics,
And her feet in the clouds. Kinda wish I’d never met her,
Kinda wished I’d walked away, except for her coronation day.

She drove an old Chevy that was just like her,
Tired and wheezing, the color of her yellow hair.
She played at the guitar, she was never very good,
But she kept on a pickin’ and knockin’ on wood.
She used to ask me “Johnny, tell me how do I sound? ”
And I lied with a straight face, ‘cause I wanted to get laid.

But she kept on dreamin’ and walkin’, with her head on the lyrics,
And her feet in the clouds. Kinda wish I’d never met her,
Kinda wished I’d walked away, except for her coronation day.

Two days she wouldn’t see me, wouldn’t tell me where she’d gone,
“She said, “Never follow me or I’ll leave you in the dirt, ” this time I kept my word
For six long months the mystery grew, my interest ever swelling,
And likewise my concern. Then one day that yellow Chevy cruised up to
My bar, those long legs came out before, her arms were wrapped
Around a long, slim case. She stepped inside and walked up to the stage.

But she kept on dreamin’ and walkin’, with her head on the lyrics,
And her feet in the clouds. Kinda wish I’d never met her,
Kinda wished I’d walked away, except for her coronation day.

The mood at first was simply not very kind, then Kelly’s wolf whistle
Brought the place down in laughter, but she firmly stood her ground.
Then she took a liquorish stick from out that black case, her lips upon the reed
She began to play... and blew us all away! She was crowned Queen of the
Clarinet, That same Bo Kelly made her a crown out of straws and paper napkins.
Thing is, it was recognizable when he placed it on her head. The applause was deafening.

Where she went I do not know, who taught her magic fingers, I do not know,
But some stranger, over gin, or rum, or whiskey, recognized what we did not,
That gifts of talent are universal, some of them are more difficult to discover.