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Thursday, September 26, 2013

Thoughts of a Crackpot

My old man he was a preacher,
And on days he couldn't reach her,
He’d seek solace at the bottom of a pitcher,
And go the whole nine yards,
My first crush was my English teacher,
She had a daddy with a Winchester repeater,
Who couldn't stop her meeting her bloke at the theater
My sister hails from North Carolina,
And always wanted to marry this gangster called Tanner,
‘Cept the sheriff shot the guy full o’ lead,
Thereby leaving her love life for dead,
What then is the point of this cock-a-doodle?
Why you ask am I playing this tune on the fiddle?
Truth be told, I have no clue mate,

But then again, who says I have to make sense?

The Bilge Master

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