The gentle wind blowing, through my tangled hair

Picking up my ukulele, and strumming with flair

Notes and chords, and mostly an enchanting song

Listening to the uke sing, your voice can’t be wrong

White sandy beaches, hear the echo of the drum

Telling their stories within the circle, they hum

Hands against leather or tan hide, beat with the sound

Women dancing as I drum, playing with the earth ground

Later on as I cruise home, the AM radio is turned up loud

Bopping and singing, just like I’m at a live concert crowd