DESCRIPTION

And the bedenimmed ones offered up verses that inspired the faith of prelate and pagan alike, rendering all other psalms as the faeces of the sullied flock of grey doves that sat atop the roof of the altar. And they were anointed by the record peddler and called Singing Fools. And the other merchants saw that it was catchy and gave unto the minstrels vinyl and chromium ribbon for their supplication. And it was the early 80s and a mantle of polyester was upon the bespectacled women. And the bearded terrier looked upon the skies and was relieved of himself. And it was pure Terrier water in an emerald green crucible. And it was 100 per cent Canadian content and in the public domain. And no host or heavenly royalty was offended by their mirth. And their joyous chorus issued from the towering mount across the GTA and some parts of upstate New York by CFNY. And then the CBC got it into the act, too. And soon Satan came and tempted them with grilled cheese and cola wine and ten thousand Canadian pennies as an advance. And lawyers were summoned. And the fools signed parchment and dreamed of their deliverance to a land of milk and honeys. But the naive minstrels were cast into the A&R pit in the desert on Warden Avenue. And forty days and forty nights hence, their contract was torn asunder by the wretched spawn of Satan, who told them in no uncertain terms to go fly a kite. And they went, despairing and ill of stomach, out into the valley of independent artists. And they brought a kite along. And while the pickings were slim, the Lord heard anew their quirky tunes. And the world's ears overflowed with the song of the fools. And it was good. And they kept their days jobs.