We were fifteen nine and seventy-four
When the wind began to moan
And Rapaire ducked into his cellar-keep,
Said "I'm glad I'm safe at home...".
But Bunnhab was out in the windy wild
A struggling to survive,
He'd find BS to bring home to Mom
To make her seventy-five.
And BWL, like a bat from hell,
Was weaving through the Dixie night
And he cussed and he swore he would post twice more
Before the mornin' light.
Stilly River Sage, in a fit of rage,
Ripped the screen door of her hive!
And she loped and cussed,
In the Texas dusk,
Looking for nine seventy-five.
Now the world is tense,
And they can't relent
Their place on the edge of their fears
For they now that soon,
'Neath a Mudcat Moon,
Some hero soon will appear.
Whether he or she, where the words run free
That hero will tap and strive
And sprung back from death,
With a grateful breath,
They will see old nine seventy-five.
THere'll be cheering then
And a drink or ten,
And legionnaires will do tricks.
All until the dawn!
Then they'll soon be gone.
Until someone posts seventy-six.


Aleph Alpha Primera Lettera
Songs from the First Vowel
Aardvark Press, Aardvark, AL, 2001