revisionist history

I had a guitar lesson today, squeezed in the few hours Coco is in school. Because of the timing I brought the guitar to the dropoff and was promptly asked by the teachers if I'd play for class. Lamplight hog that I am, I said, "Sure." Maybe I'll play the kid favorite, the B Major scale. They'll love it. Or, "This is a little ditty I call 'tuning the guitar.'"
But I figured maybe I'll learn "Puff, the Magic Dragon," since the Willie Nelson songs I know are probably over their heads. I might just do Moe Bandy's "It was always so easy to find an unhappy woman (till I started looking for mine)." It'll make them drown their sorrows in their juice boxes. Or, since I'm just kind of musing along as I type, take some Country songs about drinking and just put in "box" for "glass." I might be on to something there.
Anyway, the post's title refers to my memory. I have fond, happy memories of the song, "Puff." I also did of the movie "Roman Holiday." For some reason I think I just forgot the endings of both. I'll refresh yours for "Puff."

A dragon lives forever,
but not so, little boys.
Painted wings and giant strings
make way for other toys.

One gray night it happened:
Jackie Paper came no more,
and Puff, that mighty dragon,
he ceased his fearless roar.

His head was bent in sorrow,
green scales fell like rain,
Puff no longer went to play
upon the cherry lane.

Without his lifelong friend
Puff could not be brave
so Puff that mighty dragon
sadly slipped into his cave.

[Everybody (sniff, sniff): Puff, the magic dragon, lived...]


I'm not sure I can do it without choking up. Really.

Back to "Sad Song and Waltzes (Aren't Selling This Year)."