Waskly Wabbit on Dead-End Woad

I had

no water

no water

had I

~

The two canteens

I

had

were dry

~

Cool clear H2O

outta

a

 mountain well

~

Woulda made heaven

outta

this road

to hell

~

This road that

led

to nothin’

but a dead end

~

With-

out

any

wind

~

 With-

out

any

soul

~

Nothin’ but dead leaves

lay

in this empty

dead-end bowl

~

And rattlesnake bones

that yodeled

“now where yuh

gonna go-oh-oh-ohhhhhhh?”

~

I stood n’ stared

at them bones

n’ thought

 “Oh no, oh nooooooo!”

~

And clouds of

gnawing gnats

made it

plain to seeeeeee

~

This was the

dead end of

death

for meeeeeee

~

~

Needless to say

I had

lost

the trail

~

Needless to pray

when the hammer pounds

on your

last coffin nail

~

 Need-

less

to

try

~

When all you got

left

to do

is die

~

I began

lookin’

for

shade

~

Some place

where

I

could sit and fade

~

Some place

where

I

could trade

~

This

schmucked-up world

for somethin’

better made

~

But the crummy clouds

of crummy gnats

were too

fricking thick

~

All I could do

was cry

like

a baby chick

~

So my

sorry

tears

done ran

~

Like

smuggled

 contra-

band

~

Down

my

ruddy

face

~

In

this

unholy

place

~

And

as

they

trickled down

~

 On-

to

the

dusty ground

~

I heard

a voice in my

sun

drenched head

~

A voice

from

somewhere else

   that said

~

With

all kinds

of

clarity

~

Despite

my

 dis-

parity

~

“Keep

  walk-

 ing,

 son”

~

Son of a

son of a

son of a

son of a gunnnnnnn

~

~

So I backtracked

on that

son of a

son of a roooooooad

~

Upon which I

become

so

Edgar Allan Poe-ed

~

That I yearned

for

the kiss of

my Annabel Lee

~

But mostly I yearned

for

the sight of

a tree

~

Under which I

could sit in shade

and die

and be freeeeeee

~

Of thee almighty

sun’s

happy

weeny roast

~

And then

alas!

I spied

the post

~

The post

that

marked

ye olde trail

~

That wound

around

hill

n’ dale

~

Ye olde trail

that

I’d

done lost

~

Ye olde trail

that now

up

n’ crossed

~

This

God

forsaken

roooooooad

~

Hippitty

hoppitty

went I

like a toooooooad

~

Like a toad

like a rabbit

like a bouncing

   snail

~

Like Hop-o-long Cassidy

escaped

from

jail

~

Hippitty

skippitty

stepped

me down the trail

~

~

So

whadduh

yuh

think?

~

Is

there

a

link

~

‘Tween the voice

in my head and

the trail

finally found?

~

Or am I

jus’

foolin’

around?

~

Where do voices

like

that

come from?

~

Dippitty-do-dah

de

dum

dum

~

yours truly

Rawclyde

!

http://deepdesertbluesii.yolasite.com

~

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2 thoughts on “Waskly Wabbit on Dead-End Woad

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