US and Them
I was sat drinking DDT on the porch with my ol' buddy
and we got to talking about the good ol' days,
when the Democrats didn't never let them coloureds vote,
on account of them being too violent.
That there big ol' sun was shining, in the big ol' sky,
and if you could'er heard us, you'd of laughed fair fit to burst.
A Whip-poor-will whippled in a Whippletree.
My buddy sucked the juice out' his beard.
An' bright eyed, he pointed to the trees
and cried, 'I do declare a Sasquatch is looking at you!'
Well, I declare I saw the eyes,
but I can't rightly say, what it was I rightly saw.
Whatever held my stare, was not of this world.
Then it up and went.
I measured out another finger. Downed it straight.
Settled down, I asked, 'who do you think will win the election?'
My ol' buddy paused a while, leaning in his rocking chair,
'Putin,' he said, 'he always wins.'