Saturday at home

I made the cherry pie today; it's tasty, but I tried to cram too many cherries into one pie.  So of course, it boiled over.
Last night Cliff and I saw George Jones at Ameristar Casino.  It was sold-out.   This poem tells how I felt:

GEORGE JONES CONCERT
© copyright June 5, 2004
Donna Wood

The old man doesn't sing as well as he did, years ago.
The booze and cigarettes and drugs were hard on him, you know.
They used to call him "No-show Jones", but these days he shows up,
And when he gets a drink, it's simply water in his cup.

He sang the songs we love to hear.  Of course, we knew he would.
His voice got raspy toward the end... but oh, those songs are good!
"He Stopped Loving Her Today" and "Who's Gonna Fill Their Shoes"
"Why Baby Why" and "Choices".  Yes, the old man paid his dues.
        
And we went wild at every number, clapping loud and long:
So many pleasant memories are are summoned, by each song.
If he could only speak the words, and couldn't sing a note,
We'd love him just the same, without his famous, golden throat!

No matter what befell me, George was singing through it all:
He sang when I was single, and when my two kids were small.
And he was crooning when the kids grew up and went away.
Sweet memories are stirred by every note he sings today.

He only sang an hour, when it all was said and done.
I paid a lot to see a has-been, born in '31...
But George is such a vital part of everywhere I've been,
I don't regret the money spent:  I'd do it all again!