Your cooky lyrics, singular voice, and brilliant music have kept me going, thick and thin, for many years now. Wish I could send you a cake, but I ran out of flour, and I wrote your address on the back of a postcard that I sent accidentally to reply to my doctor’s appointment notice, so now I’m sittin here with a half dozen eggs, a cup of oil, and no box to make the batter matter in, if you know what I mean.
Thanks to Susan for pointing this out to me.