“The song is ended but the melody lingers on.
You and the song are gone.
But the melody lingers on.”
My mother hummed all the time. While she worked in the kitchen. While she sewed. When she was hauling a vacuum over the rugs and when she was tending the kids. I doubt she knew she was humming.
When I was studying music in college, I occasionally recorded myself, just to see how I might sound to an audience. Turns out, I was humming as I played. I had no idea I did that. Maybe it’s genetic?
I’ve been to concerts where the pianist was humming. I’m sure they didn’t know, either (but I hope someone tells them).
Melodies get stuck in my head. They roll around and around. Sometimes, I have to think of another tune, just to change the recording. I’m sure this song is going to be playing until something replaces it.
Come to think of it, “The song has ended” has — for now — taken the place of the theme for “MidSomer Murders.” It’s a welcome, respite.