We Had a Ball

Bald as a buzzard was Cue ball,

How’d you think he got his name?

Then of course there was Pinball

Who bounced around like he was insane.

And Eight ball I remember to,

Who was forever behind;

Old friends of mine it’s true,

When life seemed well aligned.

Shooting pool down at the hall,

Good times I’m thinking back,

Me and the boys had a ball,

Always game and ready to rack.

Oh yeah, and speaking of racks,

The boys always did love Snooker,

Man, she was something across the tracks,

Though I heard she became a hooker.

Life was ours and ours to snatch,

To youthful exuberance I’ll chalk it,

And even though we were bound to scratch,

We had balls enough to fill a pocket.

Johnny Snowshoe

Johnny Snowshoe amongst the cactus,

A Sonoran rider all alone;

At the heat he was known to cuss,

While dreaming ‘bout his cold Alaskan home.

I never saw a cowboy sweat

Like Johnny Snowshoe riding the range;

And his complaining I’d not forget,

The desert to him was mighty strange.

But the quickest draw I ever saw,

Johnny Snowshoe had one fast hand,

And as you know the rule of law,

Well, it put Johnny in great demand.

And I don’t know how many he fooled

When they’d see him sweating there;

Them gunslingers it was like they drooled

With Johnny dripping like he was scared.

And how many did he blast to Hell?

Well, a few dozen might be fair;

But Johnny, no he’d never tell,

‘Cause he just figured he was already there.

Hell that is, in his desert sweat,

Out there riding all alone;

Johnny Snowshoe got the edge you bet,

While dreaming ‘bout his cold Alaskan home.

A 48 Hour Mystery (The Widow Willis)

I saw the widow Willis today,

She seemed a little uptight;

She was on her way to church to pray

And perhaps a candle to light.

Arthur, her dearly departed,

He died around this time last week

When off to the bar he started,

And boom, he was gone so to speak.

Now who fired the shot they’re not sure,

But the widow Willis they suspect,

While the town folk mostly concur,

Poor Arthur, she seemed to neglect.

Now a 48 Hour Mystery,

She’s brought fame to our little town;

Where once there was just history,

Now in the present there is renown.

TV folk beating the bushes,

Working the angles and clues

As we await the evening rushes

In hopes of some breaking news.

But it seems the trail’s gone cold,

No gun has ever been found,

And the Widow Willis I’ve been told

Is no longer all that sound.

But 48 Hours keeps shooting,

In this story still invested,

While the town folk are now disputing,

With opinions very much suggested.

Did she or did she not do it?

A 48 Hour Mystery to tell;

In the can it’s finally writ,

Now the mystery they will sell.

And we all gathered to watch the show,

48 Hours told in an hour of crap,

While it’s still a mystery you know;

And for this I missed my nap!

Now of course the town’s still divided,

While the Widow Willis has gone insane,

And my verdict, well, I’ve finally decided,

I’ll never watch 48 Hours again.

A French Legionnaire

Damn, my dream last night was odd,

Seems I was a French Legionnaire,

And facing I was a firing squad,

When the sounds of gunfire cracked the air.

Then slumped over I looked down upon;

Out of my body floating above.

And yes, it was a firing squad at dawn,

When suddenly I turned into a dove.

And free at last, free as a bird,

I circled high above the strange scene,

Till in my heart a great love was stirred,

And I knew I was somewhere in between.

Yes, in between Heaven and Earth,

I knew a French Legionnaire I’d once been.

Then in my dream I beheld my rebirth,

And back asleep I saw the present scene.

Yes, looking at myself sound asleep,

I hovered a while above the bed,

Until with a sudden leap,

I awoke startled and rubbing my head.

Then I heard a voice whispering low,

And of his message I’d love to share,

But I guess the meaning I’ll never know,

Because in French spoke the Legionnaire.

Checking Reality

Checking reality so I must,

But only for a little while;

Because daydreams left are soon to rust,

And I’m happiest in denial.

So now here in the real world faced,

Where deal I must with the utmost tact;

I tell you little time do I waste,

As to my daydreams I hurry back.

For tactless truly I long to be,

Preferring not to run with the crowd;

Yes, too many jerks has reality,

And oops! Did I say that out loud?

The Lion and the Wildebeest

The lion and the wildebeest

Ever watching each others moves,

Like a choreographer’s feast

Is this dance of paw and hooves.

Left and right and dosey doe,

The dance of death they dip and swoon,

The hunter and the hunted know,

There is but a single tune.

And of course the lion takes the lead

While the wildebeest Skips to My Lou;

Till the caller in the wind must heed,

For it’s just life running through.

The lion and the wildebeest,

Ever grooving to the same old tune;

Where this dance of death for one at least,

In the end comes much too soon.

Shirtless in Las Vegas

Okay there is no need to beg us,

To the desert out of the cold,

We’re on our way to Las Vegas,

On gambling and glitz we’ve been sold.

Now here we are walking the strip

And the sun feels good on my back,

So happy that I’ve made this trip,

But now it’s time for some blackjack.

So I left my wife in Caesar’s Shops,

Outside of Gucci’s thinking back,

And I rushed to the table tops,

To play some hands of blackjack.

Now what happens in Vegas stays,

And of course I’m sticking to the code,

But let me just say I lost days

And I left much lighter of load.

You could say shirtless in Las Vegas,

While my wife said, I’m dumber than dirt,

But we’ll be back you don’t need to beg us;

‘Cause in the desert heat who needs a shirt?