Freddie Robinson Jr. Poet Burlesque

Joey Fatone

You don’t wanna meet Joey Fatone 
He’s a Jersey Devil
with a Tasmanian attitude

Street whispers say, 
“Baby” is a notch below
asylum certifiable

A wise guy, gator gait    bad to the bone
Known to go postal   ...   jungle level
Joey loves giving dirt naps, 
so don’t keep the short talk       too long

Lives Cajun mean     dirty down low  in the Big Easy,
made Papa Justify give him the Skeleton Key
Stay behind the yellow line ... don’t cross the “Baby”

Always traveled light: Ruby and a burner phone
The Devil adored his metallic Black widow
Mixing business  with  pleasure was money fun to do

Fatone’s fist: shook  rattle  them numbered bones;
what you didn’t say, he never wanted to know
Best hit man for hire ... won’t pay the cleaner bill too

You don’t wanna meet Bobby Falcone
He’s a Bowery Hell’s Angel
with a Transylvanian diablo attitude ...

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