We're seventeen-five-and-ninety now,
I said to Mom today.
It's really quite miraculous
You've made this madness pay.
You've drawn them out, you've made them shout,
You've coddled the craziest loons.
And you've built a monument in this thread,
While the others jes' talked tunes.

It was Mom who kept the back door wide,
For those who needed rest
Who just wanted a place they could eat and hide,
While they dreamed up better B.S.
It was Mom who brought their fiery souls
To settle down a spell,
When Rapaire would draw his vorpal blade,
And threaten Bee Dubya Ell.

It was Mom who paid to replace the glass,
When Amos hit grand slams
And Mom who couseled Rustic lass,
To be only what she am.
It was Mom who gave out gardening tips
When Stilly got frustrated,
And yes, Mom it was who called the fuzz
And got LH incarcerated.

And through it all, in her treasured hall,
While we all were coming and going,
It was Mom who manned the parlor couch,
And kept the BS flowing.
When the world was too much on our minds,
And we couldn't raise a smile,
It was Mom who'd turn us on our heads
In her best spatulate smile.

The BS has run both long and deep,
Both wise, and terse, and silly.
And though some have left, we still have the best,
Like Rapaire, and Bunn, and Stilly.
We still get talk from Little Hawk,
(Who was let out for good behavior)
And we all -- deep inside -- recognize with pride,
We are rich with that MOAB flavor.

Yes, you're seventeen-five-and-ninety now,
I said to Mom today.
There is no telling how much time
This game has left to play.
But wherever folkies congregate,
And argue 'bout keys and time,
There's an awe-struck sound, when the talk comes round
To the depth of the MOAB mind.

For the BS was long, and the BS was deep,
And it ranged full wide and far.
There was color and tone, and the length alone
Would see you past the stars!
And if some far day sees our Eighteen K,
Come rolling down the pike,
Folks out for the ride will just say with pride,
"Well, that's what Mom is like!"

Aspartane Swelling Wotsat IV.
Ballads of Good Medicine in Bad Hands
Woodby, Betirov, Dedd, pubs., Woodstock-on-Rhyffle, 1989