The BallBagger's Carpet

The Second Annual Carpetbaggers' Ball, tentatively entitled "The BallBagger's Carpet," will be held from May 19th, 2006 until May 29th, 2006, in Benton, Tennessee. Please watch this space (swineking.blogspot.com) for further information.

Free Odds

I went to college
So I could stay home.
Make biscuits, can okra,
And change the baby.
As a southern man I find this puzzling.

When fishing,
I worry about work.
When working,
I worry about fish.
Behold: the jackass!

Irony is everywhere.
Even the sad clown is guffawing.
My daughter of fifteen months
Knows precisely how to love.
Yet at thirty-six, I’m clueless.

Why then, O Lord, hast Thou
Afflicted me with Ambition
So greater than my Talent?
What is this, a Joke?
Hey Christ! Don’t bogart the Cup!

Albert, he say
God don’t roll no dice.
Well, maybe.
He rolls a fine joint, though—
The biggest in the multiverse.

See, I’ve been trained to beat your chest
Until a doctor can be found
To declare you dead.
Which'd be a buzz-kill, except
I’ve had one save:

An alcoholic who quit drinking.
His medication made him seize
And stopped his breath.
So we whaled on him, until
Living grew easier than dying.

I also have five fishing rods,
Three kayaks, two rifles,
A truck, a tractor,
Parents, brothers, daughter, and a good woman.
My wealth embarrasses me.

I don’t know the score,
Or who’s got the stopwatch.
But I’ve figured out a rule:
The least likely, is, now.
(A small price for such a good seat.)


—GR8FLED

The View from Up Thar

Had a bald spot as big as a biscuit,
A steel belt around my spare tar,
And the ills to bewilder a barrel of pills.
Yep, I knowed I was gettin’ up thar.

Then the doctor-man sed, “Here’s yer trouble.
“In life they’s but one guarantee.
“Some say that the bod is a prank played by God.
“It costs, but ye gets it fer free.”

Doc’s words made me think that it’s few-tile
T’ cry over what ye can’t change.
If the key to this biz is to likes whar you is,
Yer whar is what-choo rearrange.

Them rich folks runs off t’ Bermoody.
They soaks up the booze and the sun.
But a poor boy like me gits ta East Tennessee
Where they ain’t sich a price tag on fun.

I fount a place up Baker Mountain
Whar a feller had built a old shack,
And I said, “I intend Jest t’ stay the weekend,”
But now I can’t wait ta git back.

If my wrinkles has got other wrinkles,
If I got fewer hairs than I had,
If my last birthday bake was more candles than cake,
Well, the view from up thar ain’t so bad.

I kin see from thar plumb down the valley,
I kin snore with the cats in the shade,
And the songs I has heard from them high mountain birds
Is as sweet as my Maw’s lemonade.

Took that biscuit and et it with gravy.
Took that spare tar and let out the air.
I barreled them ills in my shack in the hills,
And I’m happy I’m gettin’ up thar.

-GR8FLED