I am a Storyteller, first and foremost. This is my blog for poetry, prose, stories, excerpts of my novels and videos. Life poetry, prophetic poetry, poetry for all genres. I think you'll find yourself here if you read long enough.
Sad But True Sad but true What shall we do? When the money's all gone We'll cry boo hoo. Sad but true Where will we go? We can't make cookies Without some dough. Sad but true When will we learn? We'll freeze too death While Washington burns. Sad but true Those turkeys need stuffin' I'd sell myself But I ain't worth nothin'.
The Hillbilly Boogie Man Leaves Home Cleanin' my ears with a chicken leg And munchin' on a piece of chalk I talked myself into standing up And takin' myself fer a walk.
Now I'd been sittin' there in the shade For nigh on fifteen years Chewin' on snakes till my belly would ache And drinkin' jars full of rain and tears.
The old junk car that I leaned on Was rusted beyond repair But she was fine once upon a time Before she was junked out there.
Now for company I will whistle And for dinner I will beg But if you don't talk right, I'll put out your lights With my fists and my wooden leg.
Now my ole lady done run right off, see Back in 1942 With the peddling feller by the name of Teller And that's why I sing the blues.
I cannot work, I cannot plow I used to hunt but I can't hunt now I used to fish but I lost my pole And my worms fell into a crawdad hole.
I used to dance, I used to sing But I'm useless now, can't do a thing But moan and groan and lay about And wait for the hillbilly ghosts to come out.
And then we boogie Till the cows come home And it never stops Cause the cows are gone.
We howl at the moon And fiddle and pick And dance with partners Made out of sticks.
We drink moonshine From little brown jugs And rap a little Like we is thugs.
Then mornin comes And they go away And I just lay here All damn day.
Chewin' on snakes And drinkin' my tears And the people pass me Concerned and afeared.
They look at me crazy Like they think I'm a haint And touched in the noggin But I know I aint.
I see hillbilly ghosties Even if they don't see And the rednecks come riding And a visitin' me.
But today I'm a walkin' And a leavin' this place And a goin' to somewheres Where they don't know my face.
Long years I've been settin' Neath this old cedar tree Awaitin' my true love To come back to me.
But she aint a comin' I reckon she's dead At least, in her last letter That's whut she said.
So I'm a waitin' no longer I'm leavin' my tree And lookee there back a yonder The car's a follering me.......
The moon is made of cheese, they said When I was just a tot And so I dreamed of lovely things For we didn't have a lot. The cow jumped over the moon, they said In my fairy story book And I believed everything I was told And I thought I'd take a look. So I crept out to the barn one night And saddled up the cow We're flying to the moon, I said (But I know better now.) How I got that cow up on that barn I'll never, ever know But she was willing and I was silly And she jumped when I said, Go! A pig pen is a nasty place Full of slime and sleaze We gave it a try but the cow couldn't fly And I didn't get no cheese. By Little VooVoo July 15, 07