The Buffoon
So there it was nigh on high noon
In the heat of summer's day,
When down the street walked the buffoon
While the town folk were napping away.
No one took much notice at first
Of the buffoon out on the street;
They'd not recognize his mighty thirst
While dozing there half asleep.
But into the sheriff's office he strode,
This buffoon once the laughing stock
And with his six shooter to unload,
The town folk woke to an awful shock.
Now the keys are his, the perfect trap,
Where once there was but a buffoon;
These town folk who too long to nap,
Will follow on the road to ruin.
Copyright © David Maclennan | Year Posted 2016
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