Malodorous tavern’s garret, the codger it accommodates, No more,
Fuzzled in brew, his fuzzy lady, her life she lives to abhor.
Randy colleen gape at her with aghast,
Talk around that she has “the dead hands of the past”.
At the dimly lit square by the infamous tavern to wing-ding they wait,
For, the rambunchous easy-riders pack to come...
Continue reading...