SWING, SISTER

SWING, SISTER
(FOR DIANA KRALL)

Swing, sister, swing, let it all hang out,
Such majestic music issues from your mouth.
Swing to Sinatra and fly me to the moon,
Swing, sister, swing, astound me with your tunes.

Play, sister, play, that piano so grand,
I always hold my breath and marvel
At the speed of your graceful hands.

Sing Irving Berlin and Lerner and Lowe,
And the soft sounds of samba, the romance of Rio,
That fill quiet nights of sweet candlelight,
When lovers fill arms and snuggle so tight.

Swing, sister, swing, and devil may care,
Swing, sister, swing, your jazz fills the air.
In sweet synchronization with a crackerjack band.
Quick to give credit where credit is due,
To the musical greats who thrilled and inspired you.

How must it feel, sister, married to Elvis,
Such musical royalty, such grinding of pelvis.
And to be the proud mother of Dexter and Frank,
Must cause you each day to rise and give thanks
What glorious stories you must have to tell,
Of those cherubic angels or toddlers from hell.

No one swings better, at least for my money,
Behind the piano your voice sweet as honey.
Fill the air with the sounds of Nat King Cole,
Spiked with your patented cool, sultry soul.

Cole Porter and Bacharach pulse in your veins,
And you channel them softly like a cool morning rain.
So swing, sister, swing, and long may you thrive
And thanks for the memories you help keep alive.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2009
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED