when the bastards wear you down
and your love life’s all undone
when you feel like skipping town
with a suitcase and a gun
when you’re beat to your soul
wend your way down to the riverside
where the waters roll
sit you down under the baobab
where the hippos play. . . .

Hippo Rob will pull you through
make you see the world anew
so dry your tears and tie your shoe
Hippo Rob will pull you through.

     Such merry music was a family affair. David’s brother Peter Schickele tells listeners of his Public Radio series “Schickele Mix” about how he and his brother started presenting these weirdly funny family musicales which later grew into his satirical classical music and the character of P.D.Q. Bach. (David was also a serious viola player.) Here’s David’s maverick self in “You Can’t Break My Window”:

you can’t break my window mister with
BB gun
the clouds will beat you to the draw
they’re drawn with fingers finer than your
trigger’s ever known
you’ll need a wrecker’s ball
you can’t break my window mister cause it’s
painted on the wall

you can’t break my window mister cause it’s
made too strong
its glass is spun of songs that echo round in
Hildy’s eyes
clear songs of longing hiding in these
desert skies
I feel the wind a-scraping on my
stubble chin
the clouds they change like Hamlet’s whale
you gotta
stare down the valley, till it lets you
till it lets you in
you need only heed the call
you can’t break my window mister cause it’s
painted on the wall

     And lastly, from “Sophie Sleeps”:

The moon wears black pajamas
with buttons made of stars
moonbeams stroll the avenues
strumming cheap guitars
so turn down the lamplight
now is the hour
Sophie’s sleeping . . . .

     Last November phone calls and e-mails asked, “Did you know David Schickele just died?” Damn! But we do got his songs. David’s sleeping.