We don't remember but I imagine that a baby yells so much,
it must be very indignant.
It must really want to go back.
[FROM AUDIENCE] You were splashed the first minute
you ever wrote.
[THOM GUNN] Right.
[LAUGHTER]
There's some very good line in Shakespeare
about we cry when we leave the world,
and we cry when we come into it.
An awful place the world must be.
First thing you know is being slapped, right?
This is a rather different kind of song.
Until fairly recent times, most selling of goods was done--
well, not in stores but in more movable places.
That is, people carry--
in villages, in small towns, in market towns,
even in large towns like London, maybe early New York,
people carry trays around or set up
stalls, which would be strictly movable.
And I think this was probably the origin of street cries.
And that you would want to know where you could
buy such and such a thing.
It wasn't just a question of going round
to a store you know was going to be there,
you have to keep your ears open.
And so they had street cries, sweet lavender,
and fresh bread and all that.
And sometimes these developed into rhymes or even songs.
And the Elizabethans particularly
were fond of making highly ornate and literary
songs called street songs that probably were much too
sophisticated ever to be sung on streets
but which you find in some of the Elizabethan collections
of songs.
Well, this was about three, four years ago, about 1968.
I wrote a modern street sign for a famous street
in San Francisco.
I call it just "Street Song."
"I am too young to grow a beard but yes man it
was me you heard in dirty denim and dark glasses.
I look through everyone who passes.
But ask him clear, I do not plead,
keys lids acid and speed.
My grass is not oregano,.
Some of it grew in Mexico.
You cannot guess the weed I hold.
Clara Green, Acapulco Gold, Panama Red,
you name it man, best on the street since I began.
My methedrine, my double-sun, will give you
two lives in your one, five days of power
before you crash, at which time use these lumps of hash.
They burn so sweet, they smoke so smooth,
they make you sharper while they soothe.
Now here, the best I've got to show,
made by a righteous cat I know.
Pure acid.
It will scrape your brain and make it something else again.
Call it heaven, call it hell, join me
and see the world I sell.
Join me, and I will take you there,
your head will cut out from your hair into whichever self
you choose.
With Midday Mick man you can't lose,
I'll get you anything you need.
Keys lids acid and speed."