I don’t know what he saw in her,
…Or what she saw in him.
But like the garbage and the trash,
…The two became a “them”.
And I’m not saying they weren’t matched,
…Or that they ought not pair.
It’s just that neither was a catch,
…And neither rich, or fair.
And don’t mistake the last as praise
…As faint as Texas fog
At noon on any summer day,
…Or faint as hair on frogs.
There are those whom all know excel
…In one or many ways.
There are those whom we all can tell
…Of something less to praise.
But sometimes we just shake our heads
…And cluck-cluck like a hen
At people who are thorough breads –
…The heels with naught to win.
At lunch, she bit her nails and spat;
…She ate, and picked her nose.
To pick and eat is worse than that –
…And that’s the way he chose.
He’d laugh and snort just like a horse;
…She’d whinny in reply.
And both were wheezing in due course
…As if they both might die.
He’d eat a fruit and toss the peel
…Behind him on the floor.
She’d pick them up and make a meal
…When he tossed number four.
They were great athletes of a kind.
…After the licks and slurps,
They’d reach down deep to see who’d find
…The longest, loudest burps.
They both drank beer and bellies grew
…Like bubbles blown with gum.
They’d lift their shirts, those zany two,
…Laugh, beat them like a drum.
Their teeth were snaggled like a fence
…Of broken, rotted boards.
Stains made their mouths both dark and dense –
…Tobacco’s chewed rewards.
They made a pretty pair of mates,
…A pretty awful pair.
They both were truly heavyweights,
…A duo ripe and rare.
We’re glad, that paired, they found their groove.
…We owe them greatest thanks.
In marrying, they did remove
…Each other from the ranks.
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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.
The Bard on the Hill 