Pages

Sunday, June 28, 2020

old johnson


by horace p sternwall




i was standing on the corner
when i heard my bulldog bark
i turned and saw old johnson
he was standing in the dark

me and him went back a ways
with nothing good between us
him and his buddy jackson
rode me like a couple of hyenas

what had i done to him lately
to make him look so foul
suddenly he stepped from the alley
with a most menacing scowl

who are you and your bulldog
he asked with a slippery smile
to invade my territory
with your simpering whimpering guile

I do not know your uncle
I ianswered with a frown
but I have every right to see the show
when i choose to come to town

be that as it may, he smirked
but the cards have all been dealt
and you may be astonished
when they are turned up on the felt

i scorned his imputations
and whistled for my dog
but long will i remember
what emerged then from the fog

oh you who walk the cobbled streets
and lounge in doorways dim
beware of old man johnson
beware , beware of him!

there are those who deal with devils
or pray to angels bright
but beware of those like johnson
who shine their shoes at night

the fog swirled all around me
as he faded from my view
but i would not bake his biscuits
and neither, i think, should you




No comments: