Lines Upon a Tranquil Brow

Have you ever while pond’ring the ways of the morn,
Thought to save just a bit, just a drop in the horn;
To pour in the ev’ning or late afternoon,
Or during the night when we’re shining the moon?
Have you ever cried out while counting the snow
or watching the tomtit warble Hello…
“Break out the cigars, this life is for squirr’ls.
We’re off to the drugstore to whistle at girls”….?

These are the lyrics, punctuation intact, of a song called Lines Upon a Tranquil Brow and, according to the sheet music, to be sung “liltingly.” They are an example of the sweet and silly rhymes of the beloved (by me at least) Walt Kelly.

Walt died in 1973. At the time I was not only saddened but felt like kicking myself in some tender place because I had always meant to write him a fan letter to tell him I loved him and that I thought he was some kind of genius. He was, of course, the creator of the comic strip Pogo and my hero at that time in my own personal history; a small town boy whose sense of humor was more silly than serious. After growing up a bit I began to notice his politics, reflected fairly obviously in the strip, and they had a profound impact on me. His comment was satiric and pointed but always, oddly enough, gentle.

I owned all of his books and still have some of them, tattered though they be, and I still riffle and ruffle their pages from time to time. His take on the Pied Piper story still has the power to break my heart. Scattered hither and thither throughout his books were little poems with quirky rhymes and rhythms and, obviously, lyrical enough to become, well, lyrics. In collaboration with composer Norman Monath a songbook was born and I was almost first in line to buy the paperback version to the tune of $1.95, an extravagant investment for me at the time. I’m happy to report I still have it, although slightly shabby…a state of body and mind with which I currently identify.

Somewhere along the line (I could probably do the research for the date but am filled with ennui at the thought) Mr. Kelly, Mr. Monath and a bunch of spies and collaborators got a lot of these songs onto vinyl and I was the instant proud owner of the LP. I was most gratified to learn that Walt couldn’t sing worth a damn, another thing that endeared him to me, since I tend to lip synch the happy birthday song instead of trying to carry the tune. Unfortunately the record didn’t stick to me (like the books) and it got lost in the mists of time and the gnarly suspicion that somebody purloined it when I wasn’t looking. Anyway, at long last, the LP has been re-mastered and the CD can be purchased with the touch of a button on Amazon.com. I am thrilled and I am again touched by the silliness and the basic humanity of Mr. Kelly and his alter-ego, that nice possum Pogo. You’re a genius Walt Kelly and I love you.