The brothers’ related banter…
H: I’m doing well as well, and we’re gonna answer some questions, does that–oh, no, you’ve got a poem! You’ve got a poem! Poem! Poem! Poem!
J: Hank! Hank! Hank! Usually, we have a poem at this part of the day.
H: But?
J: Well, do you want one?
H: Yeah! Well, as much as I ever do.
J: I thought we’d read another poem from Frances Cornford, Hank, the poet whose husband was named Francis Cornford. This one is called The Guitarist Tunes Up.
(Reads poem)
J: It’s a little dirty, but you know, I figure we can handle it.
H: Yeah. Alright.
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Click to read poem
With what attentive courtesy he bent
Over his instrument;
Not as a lordly conquerer who could
Command both wire and wood,
But as a man with a loved woman might,
Inquiring with delight
What slight essential things she had to say
Before they started, he and she, to play.