THE STORY OF CLARENCE by BILL ARNOTT

Downtown Vancouver, September 2020

Written for “the world’s biggest jazz fan,” Ray Turner of Penzance, UK.

 Well I got a clarinet I call Clarence, the colour of candlelit zebras, the lustre of Christmastime silverware, and the polish of perspiration and play. Now he B-flat by nature, but he’s sharp as downtown Freddie Brown heading uptown on a Saturday night. You see Clarence wore an old “Lou” reed like a bamboo cravat, and a fine felt suit of ebony the colour of half the keys on a honkytonk piano named Hank. They were joined by the oboe Ophelia, backed up by Big Barry Bass (a real stand-up instrumentalist) and lead by a cat named Dal – though everyone just called him “Richie” (you see, it was kind of a joke ’cause he was always flat broke, but invariably right on key). Then along came a dancer named Billie, and she married her beau named Bill. They got together and people called them “B-squared” but they were the coolest laid back duo, their attitude laissez-faire. Well then old Harvey the Harp he would join the affair and he was always, always high, but man that man was harmless, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’d walk into a party sizing up the room, and with his harp held high, he would look the crowd in the eye, and he’d play some harmonica tune.

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Bill recorded his poem in downtown Vancouver, Canada. The overcast light is due to forest fires burning along the West Coast of America – Washington, Oregon, California.

Stereo Story #545

Bill Arnott

Bill Arnott is a songwriter, poet, and bestselling author of the Gone Viking travelogues. His column Bill Arnott’s Beat runs in several magazines, and for his travels he’s received a Fellowship at London’s Royal Geographical Society. When not trekking with a small pack and journal, Bill can be found on Canada’s west coast, making music and friends.