ALL I GOT LEFT IS HONKY TONKIN'

Merle and Hank and Substack

All I got left is some honky tonkin’

The Texas two step and boots made fer walkin’ and gawkin’ are gone.

My Stetson's stained and lost its shape

Just like me from younger years.

The bars and taverns and dives lit me up for years

From howlin’ at the moon to screaming through the tears.

I woke up one morning to fears

That everything was slip slidin’ away to mix a metaphor

Or two.

When you git old that’s what you do.

But I love my Honky Tonkin’

And the time fer Peter dunkin’.

I love that loud juke box in my ear,

Chattin’ some lady without any fear after a couple of pitchers of beer.

Shootin’ pool, tossin’ darts in the dark with light only on the target,

Like my life used ta be.

I always saw the light, the beacon so I know’d where to go

And how tuh git thar

(man, I dig talkin’ with a southern drawl,

Even though I’ve never once in my life dared to say y‘all.)

Now, I hang with poets and horny women and political hacks,

At a comfy place on the corner people call Substack.

I write verse and rhyme and iambic pentameter some of the time.

AND I READ, OH I READ, IT GIVES ME PLEASURE,

To drink in thoughts, ideas, passions and such

From all over the globe.

And chat and talk and share my soul

Make love with strangers all through the night

Sometimes ‘til dawn

In my little mancave by the sea.

Oh, I still love Honky Tonkin’

With Hank and Merle and Willie and Waylon and the boys,

But, boy it is fun to sing and write and cry and fight into the night,

Makin’ some Substack noise

With all the Substack Girls

And all the Substack Boys.