Mom and I went down to the sing-a-long. It was a long walk to the other side of the building, but she seemed up for it. We got there a bit late and the crowd of residents was already singing.
The woman who was playing the piano comes often to Stuvwxyz to play. She even brings her own lyric sheets to pass out to the audience. She is a hoot.
Mom is no longer singing, she doesn't hum along, she doesn't lip-sync or mumble along, she is not tapping her foot or bobbing her head. She makes no sound, motions, or movements that convey any participation.
I lean in with the lyric sheets and sing to Mom, hoping that she'll join in with me. I run my finger under the words, hoping she'll join in. But we don't need these lyric sheets, we know these songs. These are the kind of songs that she taught to my Girl Scout troop, songs that we sang together around the campfire.
"I gave my love a cherry, that has no stone..."
Mom perks up and yells at me "How do YOU know this song?!" Yelling at me like I had stolen something from her.
I lean in and whisper to her "You taught this song to me, you taught it to me in Girl Scouts." She glares at me.
Have I told you how tired I am, of being yelled at?
The Riddle Song:
I gave my love a cherry
That had no stone,
I gave my love a chicken
That had no bone,
I told my love a story
That had no end,
I gave my love a baby
With no cryin'.
How can there be a cherry
That has no stone?
How can there be a chicken
That has no bone?
How can there be a story
That has no end?
How can there be a baby
With no cryin'?
A cherry when it's blooming
It has no stone,
A chicken when it's pippin'
It has no bone,
The story that I love you
It has no end,
A baby when it's sleeping
There's no cryin'.
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