Mr. Chenk Lee 1
O' a wicked age it was, he spoke in hebrew
An old language it was, spoken only be the elders
He sat on wisdom
Spoke of the past
Only to realize his time had passed
In his eyes lived many black days
The handprints of the devil himself remained still
His back, host to many agonizing terror events
His frown was no longer firm, for his wrinkles sagged
His age truly spoke out
White hair, thick eye-glasses
Vietnam was his favorite subject
Many languages he spoke
Yet none made his joy, like french
A romatic speech it was
Tune to his ear
As music was his anti-fear
No one was able to match his spear
One day he got up and just left.....
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