Bring Your Trouble

I got one clean shirt, and it picked a fight with the door. Boss took back the van at noon, left my lunch there on the seat. I walked six blocks in work boots, with a blister keeping beat. Miss Lou slid me a ginger ale, said, “Your face could use some noise.” So I climbed onto the foot rail, and I gave the room a choice. You can sit there counting cracks, you can stare into your drink, or put four good beats beneath it before that trouble makes you sink. Bring your trouble! Bring it in! Bring your voice! Let it ring! If your week won't give you mercy, make these old floorboards sing. Bring your trouble, bring your voice. Nobody sings alone tonight. Ray lost forty at the card game. June's sink backed up again. Nina's boy missed the last bus, so she drove through town for him. Old Mack slapped time on the tabletop. Miss Lou found a wooden spoon. By the time the glasses rattled, every bad day had a tune. Ray sang low and June sang early. Nina laughed and missed a line. We weren't clean and we weren't clever. We were loud and right on time. Bring your trouble! Bring it in! Bring your voice! Let it ring! Put your worst day in the rhythm. Let the whole room carry it. Bring your trouble, bring your voice. Nobody sings alone tonight. Then Miss Lou stood on a milk crate, held an envelope up high. “Landlord sold the whole damn building. This is our last Friday night.” Not a glass moved for a measure. Then she struck her spoon once more. Said, “They can put a lock above us. They can't own what filled this floor.” Bring your trouble! Bring it in! Bring your voice! Let it ring! If they take away this ceiling, we'll find somewhere else to sing. Bring your trouble, bring your voice. No address can hold it down. Bring your trouble, bring your voice. We'll be the loudest room in town. What do we bring? Trouble! What do we keep? Voice!