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Patty —Paté, if you went away
I’d be bluer than my old blue suede shoes
I’d be down in the dumps
I’d be a batter in a slump with the blues
If you hit the road my heart would implode
I’d be vacant as an old motel
With a run-down sign recalling better times
when all was well
So, Paté,
don’t you ever go away
Paté, if you went away
I’d be broken as Napoleon on Elba
I’d be a busted car, be a guy in a bar
with a sad tale to tell
If you flew the coop I’d be knocked for a loop
up-ended like a bowling pin
I’s be in the soup
wondering how I fell in
Paté, if you went away—
I would remember you in your gardening days
I’d think of your straight-talking way
I’d think of you waving from your flowers,
think of how sweet you made the wee hours,
But I don’t like the bitter-sweet way
that memory plays
So, Paté,
don’t ever go away
by Jim Culleny
2003
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