Sam’s Grand Slam

by Alister MacQuarrie

Sam flaps past, calm as a mad bat,
Hasn’t a map, sans hat, fad clad,
A sad dad at a crap party. Grabs a stand and –
Hardly a bard, Sam plays anyway. Crazy jams
and whammy bars and… flat, flat, flat.
Can’t play any jazz, and jazz fans pack all stands –
Sam’s bad day. Cats can’t stand Sam’s pap – a car crash.

Sam’s hands slap at bass, a last gasp. Slam’s a wrap, Sam, that’s all…

Cram that! Sam’s hands warp, amass an attack – rad Sam’s back –
And my Gawd, that man can play!