The Old Prospector, the Crazy Old Fool
The Old Prospector, The Crazy Old Fool
Folks said that nasty fool is a damn old bat
times the bastard knows not where he is at
Rumor is he lives in shame for murdering a man
eats lizards and snakes, drinks from rusty can
He eats snails, claiming it slows his pain
wore a sombrero, his umbrella for the rain
Chewed on his grubby food lightning fast
swore hell was his garden if it only last
Claimed he slept on a pleasant cactus bed
had genius ideas always running in his head
Knew the earth was only alien hunting ground
had hid every strange thing he ever found
On cold nights slept naked as he could be
swore it put better leaves on his tree
Always used a large rock for his pillow
ate boiled bark from his weeping willow
When asked how he knew this earth was flat
said, if were round I not be where I am at
Kept a rattle snake for his waking alarm
declared it to be a friend doing him no harm
Yet when he passed on they soon did find
not all was crazy as all hell in his mind
For hidden under his massive cactus bed
buried deep were 700 bars not of lead
Gold this old timer had been finding there
his crazy act was to keep all thieves unaware
Gold mine hidden underneath his shabby shack
tunnel underground to rocky hill outback
Lawyers found that he had a grandson at Yale
claimed to be an orphan was his tale tale
He had paid that boy's way into a great life
making sure the kid experienced no strife
His hoard tallied out to be five million bucks
mine still producing hauled out by trucks
Town-folks all were shocked and so damn amazed
this old man they had thought to be so crazed
In his will he left a note for his tombstone,
Hell with you fools, my old tired ass is gone!
I had fun seeing what dumbasses you all were
my trick playing you ALL caused a big stir
Grandson put the biggest tombstone on his grave
wrote a best selling book on how gramps gave
Exposed the bias of the arrogant fools in town
folks laughed so hard they couldn't put it down!
Robert J. Lindley
Note: Poem is loosely written on the life of an old man about my former home-town, an old man they all called "Crazy Jim".
One day, I talked to crazy Jim, he stopped acting crazy walked about town with me a teenager explaining all about the places and people for the last 40 years there. Not a single crazy word did the man utter.
As we arrived back where our walk started he shook my hand and said, son I knew your dad well, he was an honest man, a good man.
Then he walked off jabbering, back into his act...
Later when I told people about it all -none of them believed me...
I learned that people will absolutely refuse to accept when they've been played for fools. Will prefer to keep believing the lie..
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment