The Cell-Block Songbook
Bohemian Ribbitsody & Other Jailhouse Verses
They can lock up an honest frog, but they cannot lock up his tune. Collected here are the songs PeePoo has sung from cell block C — the one that earned a standing ovation and a mandatory encore, and the quieter ones he hums so the smaller amphibians can sleep. Every word wholesome. Every note his own.
Bohemian Ribbitsody
Is this the real pond? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a bad check, no escape from custody. Open your eyes, look up at the bench and see — I'm just a poor frog, I need no sympathy, Because I signed flat, tongue low, tide high, Never curled, never lied — any way the reeds blow doesn't really matter to me, to me.
Sung from the witness box when counsel ran out of questions. The gallery rose; the bailiff wept into his own hat; the judge called for a mandatory encore. It remains the only recorded instance of a swamp court applauding the accused.
Jailhouse Lily (Cell Block C Reprise)
Well the tin cup rings when the moonlight comes, and the moth on the bar keeps time on his thumbs. I didn't do it, I didn't do it, I say it soft and true, but a lily grows through the cinder-block anyway — so I water it, so I water it, and I wait the seasons through.
A slow one, hummed at lights-out so the smaller amphibians on the block could sleep. He taught the chorus to the moth. The moth, being a moth, mostly bumped the wall in approval.
Ballad of the Flat Tongue
They say a frog across the water wears my very face, signs his name in someone's hand and leaves without a trace. But lay my tongue-print in the light and read it like a vow: it lies down straight, it will not hook — it never learned to bow. So hum along, you honest folk, and let the record show the curl was never mine to make, no matter which way the winds blow.
Composed for the exercise yard and sung in rounds, a call-and-response with the whole block clapping the off-beat. Legally it proves nothing; morally it packed the gallery for three straight hearings.
Twelve Bars for Twelve Witnesses
One for the gnat who saw me sleeping, two for the mother who vouched me clean, three for the heron who took back his story — keep counting up, boys, you'll see what I mean. Twelve honest voices and one honest frog, that's a chord loud enough to carry a pond.
An up-tempo counting song for the character witnesses, one bar apiece. PeePoo adds a bar each time someone new comes forward, so the tune keeps getting longer — which he considers the most hopeful thing about it.
— PeePoo. Cell block C. Encore performed under protest, on account of good manners.