as a fellow ‘balladeer’ (if I may be so bold as to assume my membership is still in good standing) I feel compelled to
croon the only ballad I know—namely The Ballad of Davy Crockett, which was hammered into my
adolescent brain by television , radio, movies and even juke boxes in the late 1950’s in midwest Americana.
Luckily for myself and those around me, I will successfully resist that urge to belt out that little ditty, safe in the knowledge
that virtually anyone of my age and environment , and still able to be coherent, knows the words and tune of that as well as I do.
as a fellow ‘balladeer’ (if I may be so bold as to assume my membership is still in good standing) I feel compelled to
croon the only ballad I know—namely The Ballad of Davy Crockett, which was hammered into my
adolescent brain by television , radio, movies and even juke boxes in the late 1950’s in midwest Americana.
Luckily for myself and those around me, I will successfully resist that urge to belt out that little ditty, safe in the knowledge
that virtually anyone of my age and environment , and still able to be coherent, knows the words and tune of that as well as I do.