Clog-Brawl
I was working my way north through Kansas,
selling hot dogs at a traveling fair,
the pay wasn’t great, but it was still a job,
and I met all sorts of people there.
We’d set up for a week near Wichita,
when some bikers decided to stop by,
they stood out in leather, with their skull rings,
one of them was even missing an eye.
Of course this same fair, to entertain crowds,
had brought in dance troupes of every single kind,
and two dozen clog dancers walked by my stall
when the bikers had some bad things in mind.
They started taunting the two-dozen souls,
laughing at their clogs and their costumes,
challenged the manhood of the male dancers
until the whole of the troupe raged and fumed.
This just made the lead biker laugh more,
cry,”What are you gonna do know, pansy?”
From the lead dancer flew a wooden show,
which knocked the biker right off of his feet!
A switch was thrown, and the bikers charged in,
I thought no dancer would survive this day,
but they took their clogs in hand like clubs,
bellowed loudly and dashed into the fray.
Punches were thrown and blades slashed about,
wooden footwear clubbed down brutally,
a biker flew into my poor hot dog stand,
at the last second I leapt to get free.
In the roar of the melee time slowed and sped,
the crush of fists left the whole world spinning,
and the damndest thing, amidst all the blood,
the middle-aged clog-dances were winning!
Then lights were flashing, police cars drew near,
both parties broke away and took flight,
I poked my head up in time to be asked
by a cop,”Which side started the fight?
I told them all that I had seen gone on,
when done I quickly jumped into my car,
Ffguring I had no job to go back to
I drove into town looking for a bar.
I found one near the local airport,
and went in so I could relax a bit,
only to find the bikers and clog-dancers
drinking beers and burying the hatchet!
It was hard to believe any such foes
could have put it all behind them that fast,
but as they shot pool I saw in their eyes
the respect of those equally bad-ass.
I finished my drink, then headed on north,
needing to find a new way to make coin,
which is how I found that one polka band
who took down the city of Des Moines…
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