. . . my daily sustenance down at my local Scottish restaurant when I noticed that my entree was more than I bargained for. Look what I got. The manager said there was compensation coming my way. But not today. Don't call us. Don't call us. Don't call us, we'll call you.
Auntie Lynn said it would be a sin to waste my precious vocal expertise. So I took me to audition down at the prestigious theatre called the Ritz. Producer man was nice as he could be. He said I was fine, but not this time. Don't call us. Don't call us. Don't call us, we'll call you.
Seems I've been hearing the same thing since I don't know when. Some with a little less confidence might just give in. I'm no one's fool unless I want to be. Life can be cruel. Won't someone please just CALL ME!?
At the end of what had seemed to be a perfect evening, just what did I do? Could it be something I said or didn't follow-through? I wish I knew. We danced and dined. I even kissed your hand. Under a twinkling sky I said goodbye when you cried don't call us. Don't call us. Don't call us, we'll call you.
©1997 Raymond M. Jozwiak
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ANOTHER SHOT
by Ray Jozwiak
