Race of Souls
Race of the Souls
Guatemala, November first
Mountain village, alcohol thirst
Mayan tradition command
Horses, drunken rider manned
Increasingly drunker they ride
Through the town close side by side
Colliding and crashing
Drunken riders are dashing
A broken bone, a broken head
Occasionally a rider dead
Misfortune met with collective shrugs
Details swept under collective rugs
Continuing until the last one drops
Spiritual offering for fertile crops
Ironically for the rest of the year
No alcohol there except for tourist beer
Another true social event brought to you by Uncle Mike
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