Poetry By Ken in Rainbow Colors





Uncle Bill is a grump of the first order
Who is here from down by the border,
A do-gooder allowed he was just to old
And so his cactus ranch was sold.

Up from down by Mexico he came
And living here won't be the same,
The grouch camps on our couch now
Believing he is the ramrod somehow.

In long-johns he barks orders all day
To each soul that has to pass his way,
We strain to avoid the grizzled grump
Belching and scratching his bony rump.

On a good day he's a yahoo buckaroo
Wrangling mustangs the day through,
In his haywire mind he's still a cowpoke
And blesses us with smutty songs and joke.

On a bad day he squats swatting flies
Liberating his mind from earthly ties
And from under the willows can be heard
The jabbers of a batty old cuckoo bird.

The raw geezer is a cantankerous galoot
And will tell you quick he don't give a hoot
About anything you have to say on any day
While dotting you with tobacco juice spray.

At his best Uncle Bill is his ornery self,
A worn-out cowboy put away on a shelf,
The worlds biggest bellyacher is at rest
With oodles of tall tales to share in jest.

Somewhere in the back forty acres of his mind
At times he finds that wild cowboy left behind
And for awhile a smile curls those stained lips,
He's almost likeable when on those mind trips.


©Written by: Kenneth J. Ellison 01-21-10

Song title: "Whistling Rufus"

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