The beast of Bourbon

Poem by Dag Harald Rautio

The beast of Bourbon

He’s struttin’ down Saint Wall Street
night is dark, the scents are sweet
shoes are shiny on his feet

leads him straight to the bar
its sign is dim, like a fading star
yet there he goes, the barkin’ bastard

load the barrel, beam some Jim
make him lean and mean like him
yes the bullets, he feels them kickin’

time for Daniel’s, make it seven
takes him halfway up to heaven
bring in the band and let him hear’em

slow the beat and blow the bone
rip the sound to Kingdom come
lifts him up, dog gone stoned

here’s the hour and he needs more
now of Roses, serve him four
then throw him flat, through the door

Illustration by C. Fjeldavli: «Baron with a bad hangover»

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