'Twas a hole called Red's Saloon In La Vaca town; 'Twas an old piano there, Blistered, marred and brown, And a man more battered still, Takin's drinks for fees, Played all night from memory On the yellow keys. While the glasses clinked and clashed On the sloppy bar, That piano's dreamy voice Took you out and far, Ridin' old, forgotten trails Underneath the moon, Till you heard a drunken yell Back in Red's Saloon. Whirr of wheel and slap of cards, Talk of loss and gain, Mixed with hum of honey bees Down a sunny lane. Glimpses of your mother's face, Touch of girlish lips Often made you lose your count As you stacked your chips. Scufflin' feet and thud of fists, Curses hot as fire— Still the music sang of love, Longin', lost desire, Dreams that never could have been, Joys that couldn't stay— While the man upon the floor Wiped the blood away. Then, some way, it followed you, Slept upon your breast, Trailed you out across the range, Never let you rest; And for days and days you'd hum Just one scrap of tune— Funny place for music, though, Back in Red's Saloon! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HERO AND LEANDER by CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE A DREAM by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE MYSTERIOUS GUEST by FOWLER BRADNACK ATTUNED by JULIEN AUGUSTE PELAGE BRIZEUX THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: AUTUMN by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |