BONGO BLEND BLUES

Well, the moon was sinkin' low check here over the dusty plains, castin' long shadows across the parched sand. A lone coyote howled in the distance, a mournful tune that echoed through the empty air. Inside a ramshackle shack, old Man Joe strummed his trusty guitar, fingers calloused and worn from years of playin'. His lips was rough as gravel, but