Let’s talk about Joe Cocker,
unassuming blues brother,
a herdsman of sorts they say,
the good friend of saxist, a good husband,
with a good wife, and a good life they say.
He bore the world of war in his voice,
melancholy baby in his soul.
Joe could have taught us all something
the war took from us but he carried it
on his shoulders to his grave, black stallions
mourn his death, me too.