They call me Second-hand Rose….
I never get a single thing that’s new.
Even Jake the plumber, he’s the man I adore
He had the nerve to tell me he’s been married before
Everyone knows that I’m just
From Second Avenue.
Where did that song-burst come from?
Some quirky corner of my brain stores lyrics from 1920s and 30s songs and pops them out at appropriate or inappropriate moments. Gosh. Maybe I’m more like my clients with dementia than I realised.
There is a reason.
There is a reason the Second-hand Rose fragment emerged holus-bolus.