My Pad - Poem

When I fix up my pad where my head shall lay

I'm gonna have it arranged in my own way

I'm gonna fill it with things that have caught my eye

And drifting from San Diego to Shy

It won't be modern or no update style

But, oh, I thought for a long, long while

Of all the corners and all the nooks

Of all my bookshelves and all my books

The great big tables and deep soft chairs

And the Chinese rug at the foot of the stairs

An old, old rug from far Ciao Wong

That a Chinese princess perhaps once walked on

And I want a wood box, scarred and rough

For leaves and bark, and other stuff

Old pine nuts, and oak, and gum

To chunk on the fire when winter comes

And I want a cricket to hang around

'Cause I love its lonesome creaky sound

There'll be driftwood powder to burn on logs

And a shaggy rug for a couple of dogs

Perhaps a winner of prize and cup

And a little poodle, a lovable pup

There are times when only a dog will do

For a friend when you're beat down, sick and blue

Let the world go wrong, he wouldn't care

If you break and cry, or grouch and swear

But he'll let you know as he licks your hand

That he's downright sorry and he understands

And there where the shadows fall I have planned

To have a magnificent concert grand

With polished wood and Ivory keys

To play wild discordant rhapsodies

Wailing manner, Hindu songs

Far out chance and clinging gongs

Flippin' jazz and lullabies

And more rock and roll that I'll improvise

And I'll play the long gray dust away

And I'll bid goodbye to another day

Pictures I think I'll have with three

One in oil of a windswept sea

With a flying ship and the waves whip white

And I know that chap that can paint it right

Make you feel the spray on your face

I'll hang it over my fireplace

The second picture, a freakish thing

It's bright and colorful as a peacock's wing

An impressionistic smear called sin

Yeah, a nude on a striped zebra skin

By a Danish girl I knew in France

Now, my respectable friends, they'll look askance

The pallid face, cold black hair

The scarlet lips, and that sinister stare

But I like what I loath, the beastly thing

And that's the way I feel about sin

But the picture I love best of all

Now hanging alone on my study wall

Where the sun's hot glow and the moon's cold gleam

Can fall upon it and make it seem

That the eyes of this picture are meeting mine

That the lips are curved in a fine sweet line

That wishful, tender, provocative smile

It has stirred my heart for such a long long while

It was best for her and I, I know

But she measured my love, and made me go

We both have our great illusions yet

Unsoiled, unspoiled by vain regret

But I can't deny that it makes me sad

To know that I missed what I might have had

It's a clean, sweet memory, and quite apart

And we both are still faithful within our heart

The roof of my house shall have a rankish tip

And shadowy eaves where the rain can drip

In a damp persistent tuneful way

Now, that's a cheerful sound on a gloomy day

When the wind is high and the storm gods race

And I'll be snugged by my fireplace

With a favorite book and a cigarette

And a long cool drink I guess my butler will get

And I'll look about in my bachelor's nest

While the sun goes zooming down in the west

And I'll feel that hot gold light on my face

And it'll make me think of some heathen place

A place that I must have missed some way

Or a place that I plan to find someday

And I'll feel the lure of it drawing me

Damn it! I know what the end will be

I'll go and my house, it'll wither away

With the mice by night and the moths by day

They'll nibble the covers of all my books

And spiders weave webs in the shadowy nooks

But my dogs, I'll see that they'll have a home

While I follow the sun, while I drift in Rome

To the ends of the earth like a chip on a stream

Like a straw in the wind, or like a vagrant dream

And then it'll strike me like a swift sharp pain

That I'll probably never build again

This house that I plan to have someday

I guess I'll just be dreaming about it anyway