I was playing at a music festival. Like all good festivals, it was a field in the middle of nowhere with a stage in the middle. There were tents everywhere full of sleepy music lovers. This particular field in the middle of nowhere had a neighbor with chickens. When those sleepy music lovers finally crawled into their tents at the crack of dawn, the old rooster began to crow. I had the privilege of being the first act on the second day. I grabbed my busted banjo and me and that rooster made a joyful noise. Hey, all of you sleepy music lovers, wake up.