The Badass Yodeler
I was in a bar in Texas,
in the eastern back-country,
with three beers already inside
and another draining quickly.
It was a perfect redneck bar,
the kind of place I love,
with sawdust on the floors below
and taxidermy up above.
A man drank in a corner,
wearing a battered hat.
he said nothing to no one,
and I was thankful for that.
For in the center of the bar,
a loudmouth proudly raged,
boasting of his magnificence,
impervious to pain.
He mocked folks obnoxiously,
as drunks are wont to do.
His three friends only laughed,
three sheets to the wind too.
The braggart faced the corner,
said,”Hey, it’s the yodeler guy!
I saw him last Oktoberfest,
his voice is womanly high!
“Come on now yodeler,
show this bar what you’ve got.”
The yodeler said,”If you don’t mind,
right now I’d rather not.”
But the drunkard only fumed,
and slammed his hands on down
on the yodeler’s lonely table,
sending his beer to the ground.
Yodeler got up very slowly.
“That’s better now, my bro,”
said the drunk as he got up,
“Give the good people a show!”
Yodeler broke into a song,
bight and clear and full of grace,
then he shot a tree-trunk jab,
right into the drunkard’s face!
The drunkard fell, his friends charged,
Yodeler threw out his elbows,
knocked two down and the other
he grabbed by the throat.
Quick jabs rained upon the man,
until he could not see.
He fell to the ground hearing a
“Yodel-eh-hee-hee!”
Yodeler stomped one who rose,
and another then ran away,
But the drunk had come around,
and glowed red, flush with rage.
But Yodeler kept yodeling,
and waived the braggart in.
Braggart charged, Yodeler swung,
catching him on the chin.
Three men lay on the floor,
the yodeler stepped over them.
That night I learned never to cross
a true yodeling champion.
Not a lesson with much use,
that I readily will admit,
Much like the time I learned clog-dancers
don’t take kindly to bullspit…
Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2017
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