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Poem

Young Bubba loved to tend the still
     For otherwise the drip was swill
          So every day, right after school
  He'd take off running like a fool

Each afternoon, that crazy dash
     Into the swamp to tend the mash
          Sure, chasing gators was divine -
  Lots more fun than tending 'shine

But Grampy'd only last 'til two
     Then he'd be off to chase Ol' Sue
          If Bubba wasn't there by then
  The brew would sour once again

And this batch HAD to settle pure
     As it was time for Grampy's cure
          And forcing him to thus abstain
  Would mean, for Bubba, lots of pain

If Grampy failed to scratch his itch
     Poor Bubba's backside felt the switch
          And how could Bubba sit through class
  Once Grampy's switch had striped his ...

Assertaining shine was number one
     Toward Bubba's hopes of ANY fun ...
          That still was Bubba's "bestest" friend
  For it saved poor Bubba's ... bitter end.

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