63700
May be just a media ratings boost
But when Malcolm said that thing about
Chickens coming home to roost
It was like Alice in her wonderland
Off with his red bearded head
But one look down that dusty
Tara plantation road
Scarlett
Scampering down the lane
Holding her fancy petticoat
I ain’t here to gloat but
We seen the dark clouds
The impending hurricane coming from the skies
Comin’ round the mountain
Weeks
Months
And years ago
This daily show
Reminds me when the master called good old faithful
Rin Tin Tin
But the whistle didn’t work this time
Sitting in them leather recliners
Lingering
Won’t peep the other side of the aisle
Can’t point crooked fingers
Nah
We ain’t had nothing to do with it
Minding our own business
Sitting on the front porch
Drinking mama’s homemade iced tea
In my mason jar
Watching all this calamity
And don’t you hope
Don’t you wish you could throw out a lifeline rope
From across your aisle
And we can pull you in
Again
Should have paid attention to them
Swimming lessons from the old YMCA summer days
I can line dance in the water
Backstroke away from you
On to my Huckleberry barge
Into my recliner across the aisle
And watch you flail your arms
While your chickens cross the road
Back to the roost from whence they once came
And I’m head noddin
Feet tappin
Listening to the Four Tops
Wake me
Shake Me
When it’s over
