Tuned in to the Great 208.
I can hear you even now,
singing along to C'est si bon,
until the signal was lost,
and the lyrics stopped
somewhere near the Left Bank.
Paris, La Ville Lumière,
eclipsed by a long-distance call
and its branding-iron news,
with only a red 3:10 beside the bed,
to light the trembling hand
that held a spent receiver.
You and Dean Martin,
a duo never in the charts,
but cherished by an audience of one,
A song unsung until today.
San fairy ann,
as your mother used to say.
John Walter Taylor
© All rights reserved
20 January 2026
