Michael's Texas Embrace

I knew this guy who went to work, and there he met a squirrel, who was a worker, too. For real. Being a true troubadour of the human spirit, of the first rank, highest order, and of utmost esteemed classiness, I wrote a moving ballad based on the life of this man, Sir Winslow J. Workmansquirrelenshire, being of great renown in his land for both work and squirrels, as he would pass his days both on and off of the country side, in peach orchards, in long tunnels, a-bounding 'cross the grassiest main and tousling the hair of child and animal alike, all before a mug of ale and a hearty round of tales at the pub before a small audience of fine, like-minded gentlemen of work.

By popular request, though so many in this our great land have heard and, yes, even sang themselves (in hushed voices in the night, to the squirrels wheeling about in the trees above, or to children), I present for those who know it not, the song of the man having been mentioned above, of squirrels and working. This is his song, and a song, I think, for all of us: a song for our time.

THE SONG IS GONE. Not much space. Sorry. Just imagine how cool it was if you didn't hear it.


Work Squirrel