To the editor:

Friends, one day ‘bout a week after the passing of the great man, I wuz tryin’ to remove oak leaves from my country yard in an undisclosed location near Athens OH. As I wuz ponderin’ the insidious and inherent Sisyphusian nature of my lone task, this little ditty popped into my head full-formed. (If you believe that, I have a plot of virgin forest up Belmont County way to sell you.) Anyhoo, I hope you agree it is full of pain and agony, heartache and sorrow, with just a modicum of religion thrown in there, as J.D. said any good country song must be.

Tune: The Ballad of Jed Clampett (Paul Henning)

Come and listen to my story ’bout my man J.D.

Raised up in Barnesville to a music family

Played bluegrass with his brothers, wrote a song or two

Added life into the old ways just for me and you

Well the next thing you know ol’ John’s a raconteur

Kinfolk said John move on outta here

They said down south is the place you gotta go

So he packed up his grip and moved to Athens O —

– hio that is, hippies, moonshiners, that wacky weed

John’s a virtuoso on any string–ed thing

We were all the richer just to listen to him sing

Friends said, “Son, ya gotta join the music biz”

He said, “That sucks, simple livin’s where it is.”

Now it’s time to bid adieu to friend Lost John

Blue Eagle’s bench is empty, the Scrabble game is gone

People don’t be sad, play that Realbilly Jive

So long as his music’s here, the man will be alive.

Lyrics: © 2021 Dr. Bob

Bob Williams

Athens, Ohio

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