"Failed Country Music Song; plus, the Wheaten Terrier"
Look'n at the cross, hanging on the wall--
Jesus ain't dead but He thrives and all--
Come down here, to Dirty South Grand,
Meet some fellas growing grass on the land--
They ain't bad, got motors in their yard,
Love thy neighbor who tries so hard,
I ain't gone--some Yankee in my heart,
But down in Nashville my beat did start.
*******
Not to dis pulsating poetasterism,
Yet the Wheaten walks me!!! Sometimes into Tennessee, sink-hole chasm;
Alas, if I don't smoothly brush her cotton-candyish hair,
It attracts a mess of leaves, sticks, and wintry, brown grass--she then tracks in our lair;
Thus, to spoil the Wheaten with healthy fish in a kinda/sorta pond,
Offers Canis lupus familiaris a pack-fueled bond.
