The Hard Man

Ramrod straight and true blue With just a gaze he would look right through He could tell those who were weak And were hiding something to secrete He would walk into a room And would turn the jukebox to his tune Always sitting with his back to the wall Drinking his beer slowly was his call The stories told were of tough men Who could use their fists in the end But they could never beat him in a fight So he would go and do whatever he would like. © Paul Warren Poetry