Circus Folk

Yes, we drink because we’re happy, and we drink because we’re green

And we drink, because we drink, and it’s a riot

Then we drink to keep things snappy, and we drink when things turn mean

Yes, we drink, because we drink to kill the quiet…

*

And we dance to feel a cupid’s bow, we dance to be confetti

Oh, we dance because we dance and it is rapture

Yes, we dance when skies are falling and we dance when skies are blue

Then we dance to catch the hearts that we are after…

*

And we cry when we are tied up, and we cry when we are free

And we cry, because we cry, and it is thrilling

Then we cry to make a puddle, and we cry to make amends

Yes, we cry because the novel is so chilling

*

And we break because we’re rotten and we break because we can

And we break because we’re broke and that is something

Yes, we break when there is coffee, and we break when there’s a fence

And we break, because we break—yet we keep laughing…

*

But we sing to scare the devil and we sing to raise the dead

And we sing to hear the God that has not left us

And we sing to one another, and we sing to thrashing surf

And we sing, because we sing and life’s a circus

©

agw

Firing the Committee

Poetry is not done by committee

Although the world may find one rather witty

One must keep suggestions to oneself

One must write their own book for the shelf

Poetry is icing on the cake

It is for to sing throughout my wake

Yes, and one may find this awful hard

One must treat all poets like The Bard

One may not complete a rhyme or two

One must find another thing to do

Poetry is not done by committee

(Though God knows one’s nothing but quite witty…)

©

agw

True Blue, White Wedding

This ranch is awfully restless with that murderess in camp…

She’s a smilin’ holy sunshine… such a darling little vamp

She’s a ropin’ up the greenhorns~got their stables in a mess

They’ll be doin’ things past midnight, to a priest they won’t confess

They’ll be sluggin’ back the bramble~they’ll be slammin’ worms and fists

They’ll be sayin’ things to pillows that will follow with a kiss

Yes, the taking of their Tommy~Billy~Buddy~Simon too

Oh, it’s more than they can handle~it’s a bunch of death times two

And these boys will soon be sober, come what… March, or May, or Spring

They’ll be wheat up to the yonder, they’ll be dirges soon to sing

And they’ll hang that little filly from her feather toes and neck

(It’s a sight she won’t remember, it’s a sight they won’t forget)

As murders come, and murders go

but dames done up in leather

make cowboys hem, and cowboys haw

and soon forget the weather

and soon look off to western skies for more than just sun setting

as murder makes a cowboy long, for his true blue, white wedding…

@

agw