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Regretfully, this is a true story;

Saturday- time for band rehearsal,
It's work we normally love to do,
But today was very different,
As I shall now tell you...

My sax player, Skip, always
picks me up in early morn,
For our two hour trip,
to Brooklyn, where we rehearse
in a studio, as is our norm...

He mentioned on the drive in,
He had something to tell us,
My curiosity was peaked,
But he said he'd tell us later,
so wait was what we must,

He played his sax today,
with passion as I'd never heard before,
It was quite impressive,
but what did he have in store?

At last, he finally told us,
and it broke each of our hearts,
His mother he had buried
the day before,
And from this world she now departs..

But, how this came to be,
Was truely shocking to me,
For she hung herself in despair
Over things of little care...

His sister found he so,
I can't imagine what a
shocking blow...

Being Jewish, she was buried
fast,
And I hardly could comprehend 
how long that hurt would last,

At my suggestion, we played
a song, she had taught him long ago, 
The same song my father taught me,
and one we played sweet and low,
"Saint James Infirmary" is the title,
And death is the portrait it paints,
I only trust in God, she now resides
with the Saints.

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