There being a strong possibility that Farrell will be on my song record, I went at dawn to a rehearsal at her sunny Staten Island home. I hardly know her except as America's grandest soprano, as spouse of an Irish cop, and as devout Roman Catholic. Her approach to my songs is engrossing. Like many a last-generation diva she excels at rote more than solfège. As her accompanist plunks out the vocal line, Eileen grasps the notes independently of the text which she replaces with such personal phonetics as "Fuck your sister and your brother/ Fuck your father and your mother." Well, my vocabulary contains these words too, but I'm startled to hear the melodies with verbal substitutes. My sweetest surprise comes when she is about to interpret The Lord's Prayer, her favorite [sic] of my settings. "My dear" (she speaks in hushed tones), "it's one heck of a hard song."