Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Jet Fuel Folderol

JET FUEL FOLDEROL  by Stefan des Lauriers

I asked the fortune teller she's a real no-it-all
I built myself an airplane is it in your crystal-ball
I need some jet fuel money to make it to Montreal
Do you foresee a wind shear or a nice windfall?
My plane's on the runway the tower's not enthralled
Got clearance to taxi but this baby doesn't crawl
Once I get her airborne I'll never let her stall
If I could get some jet fuel I'd rise above it all
Mr. Revolving Doorman let me make a real close call
He hands me an autographed copy of a knuckleball
I try to read the signature can't make out the scrawl
Hails a yellow cab it was signed by A Wharhol

I sashay in the taxi the driver from Nepal
Said that in his other life he chauffeured for Chagal
We tuned in the game the traffic Neanderthal
Too bad we couldn't see the bench clearing brawl
My ride's on the launch pad this rocket’s pretty tall
To get you to the top they drive you up the wall
I barely heard 'ignition' in that apprehensive drawl
A rocker's worst perdition is to have his ears mothballed
Like forgotten Spæcimen getting by on Tang and Geritol
Know man is an island when the island is atoll
I used to mix my metaphors and splash them all screwball
Now I just extend them with some jet stream aerosol

Mr. Poet your writing's on the ball
 You know it's so exciting to rise above it all

I went to see my brother he scratched on the eight-ball
When asked for jet fuel money he said, "You've got some gall
The way I made my fortune being in that old Cabal
Was to start by robbing Robert then rob Bert and Pete and Paul"
This pilot's not the kind to abandon protocol
I'm talking of pure octane not drugs and alcohol
I go easy on the intake and watch the cholesterol
I can't talk of my condition without sounding quite banal
My song was getting lengthy but I couldn’t end-it-all
With solitary rhyme scene I strained my wherewithal
When I am pinned and wriggling no need to holler Saul
Just hire six dance hall virgins to gin up my pall

Mr. Poet your writing's on the ball 

You know it's so exciting to rise above it all

The captain had us sweating he tried to scare us all
"I forgot the parachutes so take these parasols"
The puffed up Auto Pilot — he loved a living doll
When she burst his bubble that old windbag went AWOL
Like frogs on the freeway each hop has gotta haul
Far too few will stop for you when headed for the mall
You can be the steamroller that paves the urban sprawl
Or be the rare flower that withstands a mighty squall
Approaching the millennium which one I don't recall
I added on this envoy to this folderol
At last I tipped the cabby not enough for Taj Mahal
He just coined the phrase "Mr. Poet ya left out 'small’”

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