Kay
Starr (July
21, 1922 -
Lou
Gehrig could see the future. Luckiest man in the world. Knew when his
time was up. Not Eugen Weidmann. Lost his head. Outside the prison of
Saint-Pierre. The last public guillotining. Believe it or Not. Made
Eugene so famous. Last thing he did was dance.
The
tramps passed. Little Kay Starr’s doorstep. And talked of
revolution. When things would return. To the golden days. But little
Katie wasn’t listenin'. She had found her own audience. The
chickens in the coop. Loved to hear her singin'. Made them forget.
The foxes in the woodlot. Couldn't stop grinnin'.
Kay
sang on a radio station. In Dallas. Texas. A little girl. And that
big mike. So many song contests. You'd think that winning once was
enough. And Lina Medina. Became the world's youngest mother. At the
age of five. And everyone agreed. The future had arrived.
In
small little towns. Up and down endless. Dusty roads. Listening to
the little stones. Hitting the floor boards. And then one day. Her
voice disappeared. In a hole. Her smile. It was heaven being mute.
Now she could marry big Harry. And have little mute children. But
disaster struck. Her voice came back. And the ongoing never ending
career. Its such a long long time. When you’re never allowed to
remember. How anything began.
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