Through dogbite, frostbite, mange and missing leg, possums carry on. Yes, we will be at the Starry Plough, every Saturday happy hour, 4-7, or more likely 5-7 PM (except the second. Possi don’t do seconds) . We cry sometimes, without our fine Falsetto, we stumble without our steady rhythm guitar- it’s freakin’ sad here- but on we trundle, on and on we sing, merrily, in fond memory and devotion.
Muffy said he came to her in a dream, we were all around the campfire, singing as we do, and Ann was singing La La Means I Love You. Steve took the second verse, and we were miffed, then we all adjusted. It’s the Possum Way! And then the third verse . . . was not there, and Matt said “The third verse isn’t written yet” and it wasn’t.