Father's Sad Song

Far away in Harmelodia

The land was also still

Their father sat in the place

Where his children were last seen

With trembling hands

He drew his guitar from its case

And started playing

The concert was today

I heard the wild crowd moan

It's not that life's distasteful to me

It's just that I am all alone

If I should hear a bird

Or when I'm making toast

It's in the smallest moments when I

Expect the least I think of you the most

It's not that it's a mystery

This newly found malaise

The trouble is the mystery

Has taken your place

I turn my head away

Now everything is gone

It's taken this catastrophe

To see what you mean to me

If I could have my way

I'd turn and start again

We'd sing and dance and laugh and be

Exactly the same as we were then

Dot was about to put her wingaphone to the ground

When she heard something

It was soft and sad

And it soothed her like a warm balm

Dot recognized it as the sound of an old guitar

So she settled her wingaphone and played along

She thought of everything she'd left behind in Harmelodia

She missed her friends at the Lightbulb Museum

She missed her fussy old music teacher

She missed her father

The Popopalian musicians, led by a dazed-looking Drumstine

Were captivated by the song

They too were filled with this longing for home