Dried Cork Saga

He likes to run fast She likes to walk slow They come across each other When they got no place to go He’s a bucking mustang Tearing up the road She’s a gentle roan Ready to explode Tigers in the jungle Chickens on the farm A tidy little neighborhood A messy little yard He twists a bottle cap She pops a dried up cork They have a sip together With a dish of takeout pork He’s a leaping lizard With fences tall and sharp She’s a buzzing honeybee Playing heavens harp Rabbits in the patch Turtles on the porch Ceiling fans droning In the early summer scorch Oh to be a farmer When the cows are full and sweet Blood upon your windshield Bull shit on your feet It’s the place to hide out When troubles circle round A yard of wounded possums Chasing wagon loads of hounds He lingers past midnight She politely yawns They wander upstairs And hammer until dawn He grabs some coffee She finds herself a spoon He’s out the door Saying see you real soon Cougars in the zoo Bats beneath the bridge Drunken hunters firing From the top of the ridge The howls at night will scare you If you listen close enough Carols sung at Christmas Insist you’ve heard enough