My indentured dragon is the best kind of beast.
He helps me sixteen times a day at least.
He carries material, threads, my sewing machine too.
Without Chet-beefer, what would I do?
He is a handsome guy, all pink and pretty.
He tells fabulous jokes. He is incredibly witty.
He keeps my water jug refilled with vodka and juice.
I would feel awful if he ever got loose.
I keep him a secret from friends, neighbors and kin.
They would never understand the situation I’m in.
He gives me rubdowns with his claws that make me scream.
My indentured dragon is every young woman’s dream.
Hopped a rattler out of Akron.
Rode the high end all the way.
On the Erie-Lackawanna,
Made North Jersey by next day.
Between a bottle and a biscuit,
And that’s all I’m gonna say.
‘Twas a rude accommodation.
No Angelina on my arm.
Stumbled in Towaco Station,
A-number-1, no false alarm.
I raided Harrigan’s at midnight.
Came to find my lucky charm.
Jacked a barstool with a seatbelt.
Took that baby for a spin.
Tanked a beaker full of vino,
Ran some red light sure as sin.
I traced the towpath to a piss pot;
Couldn’t keep from falling in.
Old Black Joe and Camptown Races
Waged a juke box culture war.
Jumped a willing breakneck filly,
Spilled her potluck on the floor.
I played her pussy foot to cat’s paw,
Then I danced right out the door.
Fleeced a rummage sale in Boonton;
Empty pockets, long-term loan.
Found a brown old five cent nickel,
And a plastic pocket comb.
Ain’t no sweet back, blue-eyed beefer.
New Hobohemia’s my home.