The gift he had was of the gab:
‘My uppers cure all ills.’
He drove his shiny Yellow Cab
through Walla Walla’s hills,
meticulously keeping tab
on all the moonshine stills.
One day a patron took a stab
thus wiping all his bills,
they laid him on a concrete slab,
don’t choose this life. It kills.

Similar Posts

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *