Crabmeat Thompson: Lyrics

For my birthday I bought myself this really swell guitar
The kind I had been wanting for years
And I’d like to say I saved up all my pennies in a jar
If this were a made up song to please and charm your ears

But no, I’m not a saver, and I traded in an axe
Was the only one I ever bought unseen
Recommended by this Englishman, guitarist to the stars
Who’s always on the cover of the Guitar magazines

That fancy I traded in had fancy sound controls
So many more than you would ever need
A tuner and an eq and a memory and reverb
And some echo and a scanner and a winch
And a timer and a printer and a UPC device…

But the thing is – when you’re in the middle
Of a song and in the dark
It’s hard to see the numbers in those tiny little screens
And anyway who wants to carry an office to a gig?
This 12-string is a tool to get away from that whole scene

Besides I tend to bang a bit on anything I play
And when jostled all those echoes would kick in at once, together
To sound just like a pod of Whales with acid reflux
In some cavernous cathedral or a spaceship in foul weather

But I digress…
So on my birthday I’m sittin and playin this guitar
Lookin out the window and across the street
At the former farmer’s fields where all those giant houses are
And just lettin’ my thumb lay down a beat.

And as I sat there on my birthday sorta picking at the strings
I let my mind shut up so my thumb could have its way
And my eyes got up and wandered
by themselves across the street
Where some kids were on their trampoline at play

And as I watched them bouncing on their jolly trampoline
I realized they were dancing to my beat
And I wondered if I’d glimpsed them from the corner of my eye
Or if the rhythm of my birthday crossed the street

Or if actually we’re all umbilically attached
And could navigate each other’s thoughts if
we listened Reeeal hard
But I filed away that sort of Emersonian crap
And paid attention to the splendor in that yard

And my wife came in to listen and she sat down by my side
And we looked out through that window
(that I really need to clean)
At the kids like cultured raindrops -- stately –
slurring up and down
To the soundtrack of the birthday trampoline

And it was fine… and sometimes when it’s not
I try my best to keep my vision fastened on
The effortless perfection of that day and those four kids
A precious moment, rare and swiftly gone

And we watched them going gently up… and down
The tallest boy was thinnest dressed in green
The smaller boy had red hair and a giggle
And their sister, maybe, was bouncing in between

While off beside that trampoline a little guy complained,
Till the biggest one got off to let him on
And the beat we rode together was a thread
that loosely bound us
As natural as the birdsong in the dawn

And when I play this melody I see those bouncing kids
The red-haired boy, the girl, the guy in green
And though I know I’ll have to wash that window soon
Right now I’m riding on the Birthday Trampoline