A female drummer, an accomplished pianist,
Siblings, nineteen sixty-nine,

An album I bought, their picture on it,
"We've Only Just Begun" was so fine,

Multi-track singing, voices blending,
A sound that we felt we'd grown up with,

I loved her so much, that voice crisp and clear,
His keyboards, staccato, Beethoven's Fifth

Could not be more real, that rhythm we'd feel,
"A pleasant sense of happiness for me,"

She surely can't be gone, her music lingers on,
A spirit such as hers must be free.

by D. Edgar Murray