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Wordslinger

Wordslinger

The kid hit Big Town in ‘67And figured he’d died and gone to heavenSans cravat and his duds in disorderThey made him a newspaper reporter.So for decades he chased after fire trucksCajoled cops; sucked up to mucky mucksEven took a few rides on Air Force OneWith good old straight shootin’ Ronald Reagan.After Forty years wrangling rhetoricFor the spawn of old Colonel McCormick.He’s just an old cowhand from State and GrandA goy cowboy he’s making one last stand.Winking his good eye he bids big town goodbyeAnd points his truck back home toward the big sky



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