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48 Notes to Keep Afloat This soul came from far away With Spring giving Summer way And at Montparnasse, the Paris subway With nothing but his saxophone to play He blasted his best shots! They did well! Stroke the chords. First, having all heads in the train nod With this strike on the keys to have blood Flow, flowing gently down the deep Then sending their little hands deep Into their pockets wherein heaps Of raw change laze like elves asleep Those without which happily some will deal Only glad to hear such call for a meal With: he just called to say, he loves…! To steal All attention in caves with a skill Which back home he pined and pined with in vain And dreamt and dreamt Paris that mountain train In which these notes he would strike to kill pain Taking him places, the like of this train… ...

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