I told you I was going to air some dirty laundry. Here it is: an early iteration of The Choir of Gregs. In this instance, we’re singing a song that I assume is called “Grace.” We sang it before every meal at Camp-of-the-Woods, where I worked for three summers. At some point, I wrote a barbershop arrangement of it for some of the male waiters to sing, and I later recorded it on my little Fostex four track cassette recorder.
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