The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Squatter’s Writes

A friend of mine might be joining a band, so I went ahead and wrote a song for him to dazzle his new bandmates. It’s called Squatter’s Writes.


Squatter’s Writes

(to the tune of Bye, Bye Miss American Pie)
Many, many moons ago
There lived a man who you might know
His name was Henry David Thoreau
And he wrote this book while feeling … the flow

(A slow-moving, reflection kind of tone)
When nature speaks you shut up and listen
If you don’t your brow will glisten
Dig a hole in the ground
Let your imagination go to great heights
Because buddy, pal, my main muchacho,
We’re talking ‘bout Squatter’s Writes

(A mix of country and rap, a crap if you will)
While writing Walden HDT only ate prunes
He kept a journal out in a field
He wore wool socks to keep warm at night
Talking to himself was more than all right
He’d sit there answering nature’s call
Reflecting, and writing, about it all

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