Today’s a travel day. I’ll finish up the month at home with fun activities on the 28th, 29th, and 30th. One of them is a meeting with the other members of BYRON BIGGERS BAND. That would be CHRIS CRAIG (arranger, lead singer, guitar) and GALE CLITHERO (percussion, second singer, math teacher). We haven’t played anywhere in quite some time and decided we need to get together for a rehearsal and then arrange to make a recording for posterity. I think I told you that we were recorded once before, in the studios of KSMU I think. We each received one CD, and each of us lost his. I hope to take better care of mine this time.
Byron Biggers Band is named for one of my poems. Here’s the poem.
Our entire repertoire is comprised of my poems, each of which has been arranged by Chris. I believe there are ten of them. If we were to play a full concert, we’d have to keep playing the same ten songs over and over. Which may explain why we get so few invitations.
A Sad Tale
Nothing frightened Bryon Biggers, Not even lions, not even tiggers, He spent his life exploring this land, Knew these hills like the back of his hand. Striding down the path he came Always looking for bigger game But in the end he met his match In a lowly Ozarks chigger patch. Byron laughed, “Ha ha!” cried he, “No bug could be the death of me!” But halfway through that patch of chiggers And it was over for Byron Biggers. He clawed those bites till his dying breath, Sighing, “I’ve scratched myself to death. Someday they’ll find me here alone With chiggers gnawing on my bones.” He died the way he lived – brave, And few have seen poor Byron’s grave. He’s buried high on a lonely hill Where to this day he itches still. Here lie the bones of Byron Biggers, Eaten alive by hungry chiggers, So if you see poor Byron twitch, Scratch his bones ‘cause they still itch. (c) 1998 David L. Harrison, all rights reserved