Twas the night before a Dead show and all through the place,
All the heads were all dosed - just trippin to space.
Their joints were all rolled with precision and care,
with hopes that St. Stephen soon would be there.
The freaks were nestled all stoned in their beds,
While visions of Johanna danced in their heads.
With me and my poncho and her in my hand,
Just dyin to hear “Uncle John's Band”.
When out from the stage there rose such a clatter,
I sprang to my feet to see what was the matter.
Away to the stadium I flew with my stash,
I kicked down the gate - it fell with a crash.
The light from the orb hanging so high,
Blinded me like I was Born Cross Eyed.
And what to my red, glossy eyes should appear?
A shadowed figure, could it be Mr. Weir?
No, too big to be Bob, too short to be Phil.
Could it be Mickey, Vince, maybe Bill?
He started to sing and the sound from his lips
Assured me at once that he was Captain Trips.
His eyes - how they twinkled, his dimples - how merry!
I exclaimed in excitement “Oh, Wow! It's Jerry!
I couldn’t believe it - just Jerry and Me.
“Play something," I said. “Play Sugaree.”
The fat man jammed, he was on a roll.
With his sweet song he rocked my soul.
Jerry spoke once and his message was plain:
“Gotta go now” he said, “it Looks Like Rain”.
But I heard him exclaim as he walked out of sight,
“Good Lovin to all and I Bid You Goodnight."