Tuesday, October 18, 2005

More Drivel Poetry

Dirty Hat Dave

There’s a worm in my brain that listens to reason,
But it can’t always be found.
There’s a pistol in my grip that isn’t always sound,
But I’m a sharp shooter when I can shoot at all..
Damn, I’m fucked up.

Get along, little doggie, and sing me a tune,
I’m tall in the saddle and short in the fall,
I’m black as my heartbeat and firm as that worm
And clean as that white hat you all think I have on.

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Abandon hope, all ye who enter here! (At least put on your socks and pants.)