Chasing the Blues Away
Upon a bar stool perched am I
With a smiling tear - a tall frosty in hand
The memory of her- for I was such a fool
Having played a part in Medusa's stone cold play
Here’s to her freedom- that crazy demented witch
God forgive the man who’s next envenomated
The tears I cry or is it a sigh
That helps me remove my tongue from my cheek
So I’ll order another, a toast I proclaim
The witch is dead
Never again will I make such dire mistake
Long will I remember-perhaps forever
The wonderful sound of her slamming the door
So belly up boys, the drinks are on me
Cause I'm chasing the blues away
Entry submitted to the Chasing the Blues Away Contest
2/7/2013
Copyright © Mark Goodson | Year Posted 2013
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