Do Nothing Till You Hear From Me

Do nothing till I find the key*
Hey, those are bushes, not your bed
Why that driver didn't wait, with the tip I gave
Is over my head
Do nothing till I find the key
At least let me check my pants
If your mother sees you flipping the bird at passing cars
I haven't a chance

True, we've been seen by your nosy neighbor
Across the street, peeking under the shade
He'll take a bribe or I'll skin him alive
Camille, that's how I feel about you

Don't hit me with your purse, dear
And button your sweater there's a chill
Then please do nothing till I find the key
Probably never will

copyright©2006 michael james prue


* A parody of Duke Ellington's Do Nothing Till You Hear From Me

Do nothing till you hear from me
Pay no attention to what's said
Why people tear the seam of anyone's dream
Is over my head...