Please play your bongo drums inside the house

I wrote a song for my neighbor today. It goes like this:

**Please play your bongo drums inside the house
close the door and windows so your neighbors won’t grouse
it’s noisy enough around here as it is
without your added Bohemian riffs

We got recyclers rattling their bottles and cans
all the birdies that wake you at 5am
auto sound systems that shake the foundations
and the gamut of urban-type concatenations

So please play your bongo drums inside the house
it’s a frequent routine I could sure do without
it’s noisy enough around here as it is
without those piercing Bohemian riffs.**
And in case anybody asks, yes, this is the same neighbor formerly (thank god!) of the bamboo windchimes.

If it makes you feel better … A couple days ago I took down the bamboo wind chimes we inherited from the prior owner of our place. I don’t think they’re ever going back up.

The most exciting sound in the world! Mr. Bongo will teach you.


**Hold on, let me get my dictionary.
While you wait, enjoy the music.

if you play it inside you’ll annoy your housemates

Ah… the OP made me feel nostalgic for the old Arcata Eye Police Log, with its recurrent reports of outbursts of odious bongo bashing at the Plaza.

Aw, what a sweet thing to say. Hopefully your neighbors aren’t as grumpy as me. :wink:

**bobot: ** Whoops! I guess I meant “confabulations,” but kind of crossed with “cacophony.”

JRDelirious: I am not hip to this … was this back in the glory days of actual Bohemian bongoing? Like, around the same time that the SF cops were busy going repeatedly to Lenny Bruce shows, just to make sure that they *really were *“obscene?”

True enough!

My lovely Japanese speaking educator explained to me that the reason my mother loved wind chimes is that…

… they go up at the start of spring. They are the lovely welcoming sound of sunshine and gentle spring breezes. Then they get taken down again.

“Okay, sure. Just as long as I don’t have to stop also playing them outside the house.”

Do you want to trade places? I have a neighbor who plays bagpipes. BAGPIPES! During my nap time! I don’t think it matters if he (she?) plays them indoors or outdoors, they’re still loud.

At least they’re good at it - as good as you can get with bagpipes.

[tap tap tap]

[tap tap tap]

Don’t wanna go inside
[tappity tap tap tappi-tappi-tappity tap tap!]


Would the world be a poorer place if bongo drums simply did not exist? I don’t think so.


“Well, all right, all right, all riiiiiiiight.”

“Please don’t let this be Sheldon playing bongos.”

I’ll trade you, too!
I have a 12 year old across the street who “jams” on the trombone, poorly, with another neighborhood kid on the trumpet, also poorly. The 12 year old has a younger sister who has an amazing screaming range. We’re talking Mariah Carey ability here.
It’s lovely.

Oh I’d wish. The Arcata Eye was until 2013 a local weekly newspaper in Arcata, Northern California, which gained fame in the Web age for its rather idiosyncratically written police blotter column. The column tended to portray the place as something of a magnet for the stereotypical coastal Northern CA/PNW ramblin’ crowd, and every now and then it would contain an item, often in limerick form, on a report that there had been a noise complaint in the town square involving bongos or drum circles or both.