Life, Some Verses


Life is a series of tricky hurdles
We vault like a herd of pregnant turtles.
Work and save for thirty years,
Most of our dreams are drowned in tears.

The neighbors are going away again,
We'll watch and water for them, and then,
They'll show us pictures half the night,
We'll smile and sip, and pretend it's alright.

My wife's unhappy with what I make,
There's no frosting on her cake.
Maybe I'll find, part time work,
Saying, "Welcome to Wal-Mart, you cheap-ass jerk!"

But Sunday morning's romance time;
"Brace yourself, Ethel, it's almost prime!"
Ah, what passion, how she takes it!
I croon and groan, while she lies there and fakes it.

The light at the end of the tunnel is dim,
I have to keep going, 'Sink or Swim.'
There's things I keep close to myself,
I'm still a clever old Irish Elf.

I have my music, to play, you see,
My guitar is a lady, who talks to me.
And I have this dream, of a virgin girl,
Who lets me change her entire world.

So I write of the things I've never had,
Money, and love, oh, I'm not going mad.
When this life, gives me the sack-
Don't hold your breath, I won't be back.

Burn my body, take some ashes home,
With part of me there, you won't be alone
Mix some in your vinegar, it's no crime,
And run me through, one more time!