Whistle Rhapsody - The Fiery Furnaces

The isolated lady

An isolated older lady;

A dignified dame who keeps her own counsel

In love with the out-of-the-way;

Identifying with the unfamiliar

Contemptuously turns her back on the wicked world —

Turns her back on the wicked world

With it’s vulgar delusions and correspondingly

Scorns its regard

Our lady alone

With her scarf over her head

And her pricey purse over her shoulder strap

Wonders up at the heavens

And for yesterday yearns

The days of old

Often, she surrounds herself with

Like minded bluestockings

And together they regret the dear beloved

Simple folk struggle witht their confused

Concerns, still

But she puts her pity on pause

And withdrawn from the delicate

And uncorrupted by the crude-

She resigns even her own

Designs-

Then all at once

Brings in a breath

Purses her purple

Her honey-black lips

And lets loose a high

And round and resonant

And glad and grave

And westward, whistle