Grateful For the Dead

"...a band beyond description, like Jehovah's favorite choir." Though I'm only old enough to be Some hippie's kid brother I've been to hear the music play the band Times more than a few. I liked the carnival atmosphere, Smokeladen from passage of pipes, Filling the trumming concert sites Wherever they appeared, Everyone dance-happy, everybody friends When Jerry's Kids and their kids Got together for awhile. I remember one of the last times, A summer's night breezily warm, The day shedding its bright heat Drawing slowly down in orange light and purple clouds While a multicolored audience drew itself together As a living kaleidoscope for initiate eyes. I watched one buxom girl, Clad solely in a blue cotton dress Wrapped like a mist around her, Dancing trippingly 'round and 'round through the crowd, Spinning and hopping, Lovely as some windblown flower. They played their usual four-hour set, One song melting into another Weaving melodic tapestries And waxing better the more they went on, 'Til old Bobby Weir got to screaming out For sheer joy. Well, I say you can keep your Metal Boys, Your screeching Fly-By-Nighters, And deride if you will such nostalgic things. These gents survived to play their hearts out From the Summer of Love to the Spring of c.d.s,, From tiedye n' jeans to Music Video - And still, head-to-head, they could bury The best the newbies could hope to show; Could play 'em right into the ground. Myself, I find it hard to see What was so funny about a generation dedicating itself to love. Give me a band like this any day, Who can draw out well-tailored bankers To pass and puff, And fire up forty-year-old mothers-of-five To dance in place for two hours, enthralled - Yes, I'm grateful for the Dead, my friends. They'll always be all right by me.