Monday, May 17, 2010

Ghost Handlers in the Sky

SUMMARY: From K-TMH, only the best in hijacked lyrics.
OK, this is May 17 in San Jose; why am I back in my long underwear? It's too cold and dreary to practice those contacts, really it is; I was too busy last week, it'll be too hot next week. Besides, what's a missed contact or two among friends?

OK, sure, thanks for asking, I *will* make up new lyrics for the occasion.

Old Taj MuttHall went to the yard one dark and windy day.
Upon the porch she rested as she headed out to play.
When all at once a red-eyed pack of Border Collies came,
A-plowin' through a ragged chute and up a rotting Frame.

Their tongues were all a-slobber and their toenails made of steel;
Their noses black and shiny and their dog-breath she could feel.
A bolt of fear went through her as they thundered through the course,
For she saw their handlers running hard, their voices raw and hoarse:

"Get it, go touch!
Hit it I say!"
Ghost handlers in the sky.

Their faces gaunt, their skin sunburned, their t-shirts soaked with sweat,
They're running hard to work the zone, but they ain't got it yet.
'Cause they've got to run forever on that course up in the sky
With dogs that fly off contacts; as they run on, hear their cry.

"Get it, go touch!
Hit it I say!"
Ghost handlers in the sky.

As the handlers loped on by her, she heard one call her name:
"If you want to save your soul from Hell a-runnin' in this game,
Then handler, change your ways today or with us you will run
Trying to Q the Devil's dogs, and never having fun!"

"Get it, go touch!
Hit it I say!"
Ghost handlers in the sky.

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