Bard As Barfly

Bard as Barfly

Well, man, who in Hell is Hank?
Jesus “H” Christ?
Ain’t ‘enery the VIIIth, is it?
Why not “Chuck the Bukk”?
Since when does anybody have
To read the Balloon man,
Staggerin’ drunk,
Crying “far ‘n’ wee.”?
Just Cuz?
Mr Buttkus,
I just dunno.

Cuz, ya see, Chukk ain’t
Anybody,
‘Specially not now,
You’d want to get close to,
(Harty, har, har, haaar!)
Words were half-shit even
When chewed over with
Bar pickle ‘n’ boiled egg,
And the drink, O shit, shit, shit,
Made his pee stink the barflies
Were leery to take him on.

Why d’ya wanna come to Chuck?
Poetry ‘aint a drinkin’ game ‘n’
Arm wrestling on the bar’s
Much more the bent style
Than light-toed fisticuffs after
Chugging a jugga Lightnin.’

Yetto, yetto, yettobeapoet?
Y’are apoet if you make it
With words or concrete and
Line it up in bits ‘n’ bobs
An’ if you go to all those
Joints to sling your piece,
Jus’ be sure to have yourself
A veryveryvery good time,
A WaltWhitman blast of self,
Cuz
You’ll be havin’ the time
An’ nobodddy else.
Glenn be the bard I’d like
To get drunk with,
But go get shitfaced with Chukk
If thou wishest. Just don’t let
The pathos get mixed with the piss.

David Gilmour May 2009