BONGO BLEND BLUES

Well, the sun was sinkin' low over the dusty plains, castin' long shadows across the parched ground. A lone coyote howled in the distance, a mournful sound that echoed through the empty air. Inside a ramshackle shack, old Man Sal strummed his trusty guitar, fingers calloused and worn from years of playin'. His voice was rough as gravel, but it sang