Song The crocks The Crocks A Song for Jan and Ruth Style: Warm cabaret-folk with humor, moderate tempo, storytelling feel — think Tom Lehrer meets Judy Collins [Verse 1] Nineteen sixty-eight, first day of the fall Two brand-new English teachers, terrified of it all Freshman comp at nine a.m. on Monday, Wednesday, Friday And a half hour before class in adjoining stalls — same diarrhea She said "How's it going?" I said "Roughly the same" She said "I'm Ruth" — I didn't catch her last name But we bonded over Austen and intestinal distress And fifty-seven years later I could not love her less [Chorus] We're the crocks, the crazy crocks On our crock walk in our crock socks Crock talk, carcass maintenance Nobody else is out but us Complaining about the weather and the state of our meniscus We're the crocks [Verse 2] We walk the park in all weathers, rain and cold and grey Ruth starts out limping and she walks the pain away We cover the same ground because it's never quite the same — The pollinators, butterflies, the oaks still holding flame Orange leaves against the snow, the black trunks standing bare Jerry says "But where's the store?" — he doesn't understand Why anybody'd walk around with no destination planned [Chorus] We're the crocks, the crazy crocks Checking nature, checking clocks Crock consolidation at the grocery store — Getting everything back in the wallet is a war We're the crocks [Verse 3] I call Ruth in the morning — she's sitting on the throne She calls me in the evening — same position, different phone It started in the ladies' room in nineteen sixty-eight Some friendships have a signature and ours is — shall we say — ornate She sends me sympathy waves when something has to get done I holler "More Ruth! Stronger! Those ones barely stun!" Sleep waves, practice waves, entertainment waves at night Jerry'll watch anything but Ruth and I are — selective, right? [Bridge — slower, tender] She's the one who showed me Vermeer The light that falls across a face We found our way to Bach together And Austen — oh, that saving grace Last year she came to see me in the hospital And what she brought was Emma, and she read And Mr. Knightley scolded Emma gently While Ruth's voice held me steady in that bed [Final Chorus — building warmth] We're the crocks, the glorious crocks Thermostats and cuckoo clocks Jerry finally got cold too — the negotiations end But the finest piece of carcass maintenance Is a fifty-seven-year-old friend [Outro — spoken or gentle] Send more waves, Ruth They're not strong enough Send more
