Sunday In Kyoto

Have you heard of old man Joe?
He was born in Cajun land
He walks with a cane in hand
But he plays a mean banjo

Now he lives in Kyoto
For his wife is Japanese
See her fingers dance with ease
Playing notes on the koto

Friends from Spain come by for tea
And they all play the guitar
Yes, the boy is quite bizarre
But he sings so beautifully

There’s a woman you can see
In a pure white kimono
Obi tied up in a bow
Strumming on her bouzouki

Let me tell you about Yoshi
Fingers dancing on the harp
Has a pond of swimming carp
Just don’t say the word “sushi”

Gave a concert, oh so zen
And just as they stood and bowed
Three notes lifted from the crowd
Played upon a shamisen

In attendance you could see
Buddha statues made of bronze
Buddhist monks in their sarongs
Meditating silently

Then, for hours… not a sigh
Not one single note was heard
Not one single whispered word
Will it be like this all night?

At the final midnight gong
From the forest comes a cry
It’s an owl perched up high
Hooting all night long

Then a mouse came out to see
Stood on stage and gave a nod
All the Buddhist monks applaud
Buddhas smiling happily