The Bar Stool Bard

Johnny on a bar stool wagging his tongue
The tale he's spinning, boring and wrung
One brew after another this fellow is fearless
Better for him had he been beerless
He's drunk with power over these captive drinkers
Not even aware his stories are clinkers
But on and on his tales are spun
Beware loyal buddy where's the fun
Up from his seat it's time to move on
Secure in the thought, how sad when he's gone

by Renee Marechal McKenna

Other poems of RENEE MARECHAL MCKENNA (2)

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