MY G STRING IS BROKEN
We slept in a pension where I tuned my guitar
My G string had broke when she said ‘have you come far?’
From Wexford to Paris, I’m thinking, how far is that in the dark?
I suppose five hundred kilometres would be near the mark.
Then she reached over and twanged at another string
‘How long do you intend to mess about with that old thing?’
I felt like telling her ‘that old thing’ had aged better than she had
And its antecedents weren’t at all bad
But I just said ‘That thing was plucked by Elvis, I’ll have you know,
When he was bopping out Blue Suede Shoes all those yonks ago!’