stumbled in
ate Bobby
burped, barfed, left.

Ray, barkeep,
said pointing,
Bob’s tab’s big.

No matter
Ray’s wife cries
Bob’s your son
Avenge him.

How does that
pay that tab?
But Ray armed
himself, went.

Over hill
on the hunt
trail was clear

Third day had
Ray in swamp
dank and wet
sky overcast

He splunched mud
to heart-shaped
island dry
but just so

sat on rock
throne watching
Ray squatch up

Come to fight?
happy teeth
clenched cudgel

He is friend?
stood up eight
feet straight up

Shook cudgel
hefted high
ran with yell
at Ray hard

Barkeep leapt
right and left
light and swift
harried beast

swept mighty
at Ray’s head
who dodged and

a hair’s width
from sure death
the cudgel
sank in mud

weapon lost
Ray’s towel
twisted hard

his foe’s neck
whose arm’s length
couldn’t reach
Ray in back

Strangled, fell
in the wet
sinking down
Ray on top.

Found gold ’round
throne dropped as
the beast ate.

Ray collected
enough and
more and head
back bar-ward.

The moral
is that tab
is a drink
best served cold.


About tgrignon

I came I saw I rented the DVD
This entry was posted in Miscellany and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to H

  1. Pingback: Silly Poems with Terry | Golbing

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