Maxwell, Miranda, Parsley

‘Twas the end of the summer
and soon to be fall

When three tipsy minstrels
did hear a faint call

Whistling o’er mountain
and through the dark wood

A whisper of winter
Done blew through the ‘hood

They were several pints low
And searching for merry

Each knee deep in debt
a mortgage to carry

They tried to be cheery
despite the foreboding

But it’s hard for a minstrel
(‘cuz illegal downloading)

Now Miranda was humming
and clearing the dishes

Whilst Parsley was rolling
and rhyming up wishes

Good Maxwell sat fishing
through a wee bowl of candy

When “Screw it!” he chimed
and uncorked the brandy…

Thinking  it  a  wise  investment  of  time,  our  three  kings  spent  a  few  days  one  summer recording  a  Christmas  EP.  They  delighted  in  jingle  bells  and  BBQ,  while  taking  shelter from  the usual  dark  and  complicated  matter from  which their  songs usually  spring,  and frolicked   in   baubles,   holiday   weight   gain   and   the   loveliest   lie   ever   told.   This unsurprisingly became a summer tradition of theirs, and three years later, an album was born in a puff of smoke, under the brightest of stars.

Has-been French/Italian pop icon Ambrosia Parsley (seven weeks at #1; you can look it up…and suck it) flaunts her hardline 2nd amendment stance collecting Lego superhero weaponry for the coming apocalypse, ranks Vincent Price her favorite rapper.

Lucky charm/siren/snow blower & Motor City refugee, Holly Miranda once spent an underage Christmas Eve at the high roller’s table in Vegas with James Caan. Upon running out of Jimmy’s chips and magic dust, they jetted over to catch Styx at Circus Circus.

Micro-Lebanese/Arkansan Chris Maxwell, once and forever Ludlow St “King of Guitar”, deals his subversive song craft weekly for Bob’s Burgers, far more rarely for we live action mortals, in a Catskill Goat House haunted by Frankenstein & myrrh.