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Sidey’s post this weekend – a Song Title Story – really delighted me, so I told her I would try my hand at the challenge.  The idea is to choose a singer, group, or composer, and use their song titles to make a story.  I knew I wanted to do the Beatles, so I have the following make-shift effort to present to you.  I say make-shift because I waited until too late to get it done and up before the day ended.  I took precisely two hours.  Most of that time was in compiling a complete discography from which to choose.  Be that as it may, here it is –  a letter from a love-sick fool:

Dear Prudence,

     Do you want to know a secret?  I want to tell you, so I will.  Please don’t let me down not a second time I wanna be your man, but I’m a loser I am the walrus!  But – I’m getting better. . .

     I just don’t understand help!  All I’ve got to do is slow down, because I want you, I need you, but apparently it’s all too much for you.  Is there some other guyWhat goes on within you without youYou’ve really got a hold on meYou know what to do come and get itI’ve got a feeling it won’t be long I’ll get you!  And, Honey Pie, if you’ve got trouble, I’ll be on my way.  Darling, even if I fell (and I’m sure to fall), on the long and winding road, I’ll be back, and you’ll be mineEvery little thing you do makes me glad all over eight days a week!

     Whenever I call your name, I feel fine.  So, please, please meWhile my guitar softly weeps, why don’t we do it in the road?  Even if you feel you can’t do that (everybody’s got something to hide except me and my monkey), we are both free as a bird.  So let’s do the Hippy Hippy Shake – and dance helter skelter here, there and everywhere!  I promise, I’ll keep you satisfied – even when I’m 64.

     There’s a time, I know, and there’s a place for these words of love, but you know I’m happy just to dance with you.  So don’t leave me in misery.  Let’s come together and go on a magical mystery tourYou can drive my carDon’t pass me byHold me tight.  You are like nobody I know.  I told my friends, “When I saw her standing there, in the octopus’ garden Ob-la-di, Ob la-da! – here comes the sun!”  It made me want to shout! Don’t ever change.

     I told you yesterday that even if you think I should have known better, I want to hold your hand Your mother should know that I’m in love.  But until she does, I guess you think you’ve got to hide your love awayI’m loving you, even if you never give me your money!  You won’t even lend me your comb.  But even I know that money can’t buy me love.

     So many times in my life, I forgot to remember to forget, but you know my name!  (Wait!  It’s on the tip of my tongue!) Forget it, I can look up the number.  Know this, though:  If you leave me in the rain, treat me like an old brown shoe, and say you won’t see me, I’ll feel like the fool on the hill, but I know that I’ll get by with a little help from my friends.  They will buy me a ticket to ride on their yellow submarine.  I might become just a day tripper, but I’ll carry that weight.  I know I’m not guilty.  We may not ever get back together again, so remember – all you need is love.  And should you ask me why, I’ll only tell you words of love, etcetera.

     I’m down, but I’m not a bad boy.  And so, from a window, from me to you, good night.

Hello, goodbye

Johnny B. Goode

P. S.  I love you. . .

That should be enough. . .

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