Best Hooch Poems
LUCIFER'S gullet was as parched as hell!
He said, "Lord, some cold HOOCH, would do me well!"
Lord said, "In thy condition,
Smoldering in perdition,
Not a snowball's chance in the place ye dwell!"
Entry for Catie Lindsey's "L&H Limericks" Contest
Took First Place in the contest.
Clique ... clique
Peer pressure is a gun
Low self-esteem wanting popularity,
gather together in small clusters
Grapes of wrath ... attack anybody
who try to break the bind
Verbal popping every moving target
in the movie theater line
Estrogen cries when the dust clears,
another reject cherry fell off the vine
Teachers can’t separate the sisterhood bond,
boyfriends ain’t nothing but pretty toys
Cat fights and tussles are only loud noise,
a lot of ugly ducklings swimming in the pond
Clique ... clique
Squeeze off another round
Mile high dreams everybody in the group got,
but somebody is creeping ... talking behind their back
A poser is in the midst,
and the leader is gonna handle it
Put a cheesy lip rumor in the mouse trap,
throw a house party and hire a band
Thieving eyes which covets your man,
catch ‘em in the act, give ‘em a double tap
Clique ... clique
Peer pressure is a gun
that’s loaded with angst bullets
And everybody’s been shot by one
Lip blasting every moving target
in the stadium ticket line
Testosterone cries when the dust clears,
another reject berry fell off the vine
Parents can’t separate the brotherhood bond,
girlfriends ain’t nothing but pretty toys
Fistfights and scraps are only loud noise,
a lot of ugly ducklings swimming in the pond
Clique ... clique
Squeeze off another round
Clique ... clique
Peer pressure is a smoking gun
Give your friend a cigarette,
urge them to try one
Clique ... clique
Peer pressure is a smoking gun
Give your friends the bottle of hooch,
urge them to try some
Clique ... clique
Peer pressure is a smoking gun
So hit the brakes hard,
you little Bonnie and Clydes
or your life will be in for
a shoot ‘em up, bang bang ride
Today we say goodbye to jill
This surely is a bitter pill
A lively lady full of the beans
A cruel world so it seems
A kind hearted lady with lots of love
On her final journey up above
A mother of 4 to say the least
Head of the table at the feast
Witty, funny and caring to all
Enjoy life at the angels ball
Now all the pain you had has gone
Dance with the stars go on go on
A rainbow queen that you were
Brighter than bright what I hear
Life like dolls being your passion
Keeping them into fashion
Other things I know you love
Your grandchildren and daughters above
We'll all miss your thoughtfulness
Even things that made us blush
Your best friend feebie was your pooch
But definitely not Turner and hooch
Pampered dog with plenty of coats
Miss you on the rainbow floats
So look over us from up there
We all know you do care
When we want reasons why
We will just look up to the sky
Thankyou mum, granny for being you
Now you've gone we are all blue
Wish we could feel your gentle touch
We LOVE and MISS you so so much
Did you ever see a cow with a green eyebrow
If you did, you'd best lay off the hooch
Hooch in moderation is acceptable
But if you see a pink elephant fly by your window
You have definitely over indulged
Another sign is when the things you say
Don't exactly match what you're thinking
Such as instead of saying, “You have nice boobs”
You actually say “bice noobs”
Has a nice ring to it as does “a great sackbide”
Hey I don't make this stuff up you know!
So getting back to that strange looking cow
If you haven't been drinking... and you see one
Run, don't walk, to the nearest shrink!
© Jack Ellison 2015
I may be all wet, but I sure ain't no bluenose!
And, while it's none of my beeswax,
Let's have a bull session-lesson !
Take a gander around, and tell the guy with the cheaters
I'll give him an ear-full, if he'll just hang around
There's a gatecrasher here..., I heard, on the level
He's zozzled on hooch, a big lollygagger!
He staggered in blotto, with a ciggy on his lips
Sipping on bootleg, and lookin' for whoopee!
He's the fall guy, (I've heard), for a weird, double cross
Here comes the hoofer, the one with the gams
That vamp is a pushover, a gun- moll, man chaser
A real hotsy-totsy!, she dresses real spiffy
Her toy is a shiv, she's the Jane, Real McCoy,
makes a sap out of guys, who carry a torch
Bumps them off, on their own front porch !
And that's the "Big Cheese", who runs the speakeasy
He thinks he's high hat, but is full of baloney
He gives all the dames, the real "heebie-jeebies"
Just a poor drug-store cowboy... filled with nothin' but hooey
Hard-boiled. they come, gold-diggers and hoods
I've been beating my gums, and I'm dying of thirst
This is the berries, been the real bees knees!
Oh, it has been swell, while chewing the fat!
But, facts are the facts, on the up and up
Well, bye, Buttercup,......the jig is up
I'm serious Sam, in a serious jam
The truth of the matter is, that I'm on the lam
You don't know for nothin', stay out of a pickle !...
Remember my friend, don't take wooden nickels !!
______________________________________________________
For Deb's Contest: Talk The Talk, Walk The Walk (1920's Slang)
6/14/15
A profession that's not the norm.
It borders on the absurd.
In the mountains and down the hollers,
powerful engines could be heard.
I decided to try something new.
Put my driving skills to the test.
Driving from Harlan County to Asheville,
It didn't end well, you might have guessed.
The city fathers got together,
figuring how to make it all work.
Everyone involved in this illegal trade,
from the mayor to the town clerk.
The hillbillies brew the dew.
Most of it safe, some burns red.
Uncle Jessie tried it once.
His eyes rolled back and he dropped dead.
Billie Ray had a hot rod '50 Ford.
Was a race car, lost more than it won.
We popped the trunk, man it was huge.
Perfect for the nightly Asheville run.
In the trunk was a steel tank.
Loaded hooch made the car ride low.
Truck springs took care of the problem.
Now the truck no longer hauls cargo.
Beneath the rear bumper were nozzles.
A switch inside made the oil flow.
When a revenuer was chasing you,
in the rearview, was quite the show.
I always wanted to drive.
Thought this life would be exciting.
Told to keep away from this game.
It's dangerous hauling white lightning.
Blazing out of Harlan County.
At first, it went fairly smooth.
Problems I planned for didn't happen.
I got settled into a groove.
Bo Duke, he would've been proud,
when I jumped the gap at Cumberland.
Crossed the stream at Maynardville.
The engine died, it's not going as planned.
I finally got it restarted.
Pretended I was driving the Grand Prix.
Ahead, I saw the tail lights of the g-man.
Oh, snap! they're supposed to be chasing me!
I pulled off the exit for Knoxville.
Checked the map, found Kingston Pike.
I heard this in a song before.
Outside of Bearden, they were planning to strike.
Kept going in spite of the tune.
There they were, waiting to spring.
Blocking the road, no way to get by,
I lost control, spun into this big electrical thing.
The car quickly caught fire.
The door was jammed, options were few.
It was like an atom bomb going off,
when the flames caught the Mountain Dew.
The next night, my funeral was held.
Played a song about some bird in a tree.
The car lights, they stretched for miles.
This life I guess was not for me.
Skagway, Alaska in the late 1890s was sure a rowdy place alright!
It was seethin' with humanity a-raisin' hell all through the day and night!
'Twas the gateway to Chilkoot Pass beyond which lay Klondike gold!
Why! You could scoop up nuggets by the bushel, or so it was told!
Jefferson Randolph 'Soapy' Smith 'owned' the town and was so very brash.
He came up with nefarious schemes to relieve newcomers of their cash!
Madame Gertie arrived with her soiled doves and set up houses of ill repute.
Among the ladies were Ethel the Moose, Mollie Fewclothes and Maude the Mute!
Tinklin' pianos and screechin' fiddles played in saloons invitin' boozers in.
Hordes of horses whinnied, dogs howled and mules brayed addin' to the din!
The Home of Hooch, Red Onion and Mangy Dog saloons flung open their doors,
To sate the thirsty sots before they tried their luck at diggin' by the scores!
Hawkeye Blevins, notorious gambler, grabbed a table at the Hungry Pub Saloon,
And with slight of hand relieved many gullible rubes of their moolah all too soon!
Even preachers tossed aside Bibles and grabbed shovels to join the endless queue,
To foolishly struggle up Chilkoot Pass in the dead of winter with that motley crew!
A few hardy stampeders found their Eldorado but many more came to naught!
Death, disillusionment and starvation stymied the quest for which they sought.
Many a hapless feller lies beneath that frigid land never more to roam.
Infamous Soapy Smith lies at rest in Skagway Cemetery, there, his final home!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Cocktail parties are an entrenched American custom, I suppose.
A forum to spew inane babble and where the booze freely flows!
I've suffered through more of them than I care to recall,
And I try to avoid them like the flu - they drive me up the wall!
Alas, an invite arrives and a firm decree from my spouse ensues!
"We're going!" I didn't even have a chance to voice my views!
This one to celebrate some guy's retirement or something or other.
I wish they'd include me out - I have little time for such pother!
I retreat to a corner of the room with my drink to gaze about and pout,
But bless my soul, invariably a gregarious boor always seeks me out,
Regaling me nose-to-nose with tedious trifle I really don't want to hear.
I dodge and parry with him but he insists on bending my weary ear!
I strive to be tolerant when such occasions beckon.
And I'm reasonably adept at observing social niceities, I reckon,
But that uncouth, sotted boozer bent on a gargantuan toot,
Makes me a bit fractious since he also spilled hooch on my suit!
I've heard more about his kids and job than I want to know,
The latest obscene jokes and how his investments are sure to grow!
Thankfully, his spouse appears and notes his besotted condition,
And graciously rescues me from his boring, wearisome rendition!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Litter bearers burst unexpectedly
in with a casualty. Sergeant Lindsey
grabs one pole end, then BOOM!, the roof and rear
end of our frail little hooch disappear.
A swirl of black, smokey blue sky I see.
He lays prone a sprawl the deck, red bubbly
blood oozes out his neck. His wild wide eyes
flit frantically then fade and fast he dies.
He was the best of us. But our stunned grief,
"He has a wife and daughter!" is cut brief;
interrupted by a noisy dust-off
while it 'whop-whops' one more furtive drop off:
seven men who reek of blood and battle.
Twenty Howitzers BOOM! out their rattle.
They make it hard to tell whose BOOMS! are whose.
I'm still here; to worry's of little use.
We improvise; our hooch still sort of stands.
I pause to take stock and steady my hands;
steel myself: act indifferent, yet kind.
Tears could cloud my eyes, let alone my mind.
Glossary
'B Med' - Company B (Medical): army medical unit in the 173rd Support Battalion at LZ English, 'Landing Zone English,' an US army base with airstrip in Viet Nam named for a dead soldier.
Hooch - Building of stacked, dirt-filled, wood ammunition boxes; sand bags and corrugated tin roof
Lindsey, Dennis Paul - born 4/18/46, KIA 11/11/69; from Milford, MIchigan
'Dust-off' - slang term for medical evacuation helicopter; also, commonly called a 'Medivac.'
The disco, the night, the stance and the pose,
The dance in the rainbow of lights.
And the bad boys that stand just watching bad girls,
Bad girls who’re wearing black tights.
No talking inside, nothing said or expressed,
Primal ears thumped out to a beat.
People connect, advertising their motives,
Motives consumed by people on heat.
And there’s others that zone, in their own little world,
Their bubble designed on a tune.
These people dance and sway their own inner self,
Sailing their own little boat on the moon.
With the drugs and the shots, the whisky and rum,
And the juice, hooch, vino, and sauced Mary Jane.
It’s all on display every night at the disco,
A night where people go to be that insane.
How do we know they are amongst us
Are they the ones who do not believe
Those truthful earnest things we believe
Aren't they the ones who try to deceive
Our youth into their filthy naughty deeds
Do they mock us and hate us yet mooch
Will they steal our children and eat the pooch
Do their wicked women tempt us to smooch
Do they celebrate without drinking hooch
Damn their souls to eternal hell
Shut the gates before they swell
And overtake us against our will
For this we need more then popping pills
Do they look like us do they think like us
Do they eat like us do they meet like us
Do they laugh like us do they cry like us
Do they fear like us do they scare like us
Will they accept and simulate
Will they turn before it's to late
Will they defy and seal their fate
Will they leave as we close the gate
Are they the ones that strangely smell
Are they the ones that seem unreal
Are they the ones who cannot feel
Are they the ones we must kill
How do we know they are amongst us
This is for that certain someone who has everything.
If they take an occasional drink, this would make their bell ring.
It’s an invention that will certainly appear keen.
Why not give that loved one an instant booze machine?
This contraption makes fresh hooch on the spot.
Doesn’t this seem like a holiday gift idea that’s hot?
Just mix the powder with water, and voila!
We can have instant whiskey, bourbon, or vodka.
It also makes decent gin, brandy, and tequila.
So take that credit card, and rush out to the store.
Your friend will never run out of booze anymore.
I am a pugnacious old pooch-
with prowess I guard my man's hooch,
when the master comes home
he throws me a bone-
but I'd prefer a poodle to smooch!
Mama and Daddy was always Love-Dovey
She is His Sweetheart – He is Her Honey
First Love… Real Love - Forever True
Pa… I Pray to find A Man Like You…
Daddy Laughed and Put His Arm Round My Shoulder
And Said, “I’ll Tell You Somethin’, Now You’re Older
It’s got to do with Your Mother’s Fame
And Why I gave Her, The Nickname…
… Boot-Legged Mama
Boot-Legged Mama
Blue-jean Shorts and Vintage Tony Lama
Walked thru the Door… of A Liquor Store
… Packaged so Pretty… Pa Just had to Pour
… Boot-Legged Mama
Ma… Was there, to get 6-packs for A Party…
Pa… Was there, ‘cause of a Taste for Bacardi
He took One Look and Knew He Couldn’t Waste Her
Pa… Gave-up ‘Drank’… Just so He Could Chase her !
Dad, Said, ‘He’d Drowned in Dark-Eyes and Sweet-Aroma
Fine-Wine, Crystal… But Tuff’ Nuff’ to Down-Drama
Pa Claims, Mama’s Labeled by the F.D.A.
And Listed on Her Driver’s License is, A.K.A. …
… Boot-Legged Mama
Boot-Legged Mama
Genuine Woman, Who Made Him Wanna’
Take Her to be His Lawful Moonshine
… Married at Midnight – ‘cross The County-Line
… Boot-Legged Mama
Alcohol’s in Trauma; and Prohibition Told Her:
"Boot-Legged Mama… Done Drove Pa Sober !"
Now, Homemade-Hooch… is His Acquired Taste
180 Proof… Kicked All Over His Case !
Right Then, Mama Flowed into The Room
Pa, Teased and Said, “Still Full-Bodied and Perfumed !
Ma Hugged Us, then Handed Me – Old Boots and A Dress…
(and good advice)… “Go Git’ My Elliot Ness…
… and be a Boot-Legged Mama!
( Hey !... Did I Hear Somebody, In A Country Drawl ….
Order Up A Bottle of Kicking Alcohol !
Well, Here She Is… Y'all ! ...
Boot-Legged Mama ….
Well John (Moses) Freeman... You Said You Needed
Somethin' :) to Read tonight, before kicking up your
heels... Well, Here It Is (Have Fun - Son)
MoonBee
(Thank You For All Your Wonderful Comments
Now, I Can't Get Thru The Door for My Ego.. (Smile)
He came into their yard one dreary day,
Hoping that he there from the rain could stay.
They gazed at him standing there in his miserableness
And quickly realized that he would be more than a guest.
He couldn’t have been more than a few months old
Standing there timidly yet trying to be bold.
Friendliness he showed with wagging tail,
Convinced that in their favor he would prevail.
They gladly welcomed him into their home,
Wondering from where he had so carelessly roamed.
No average pup was this lovely pooch,
They couldn’t, therefore, name him “Hooch.”
They contemplated for more than an hour or two,
To reach a conclusion for a name that was new.
It couldn’t be “Rover” or simply “Fido”,
Because of his class, it must be Phydeaux.