Dude!

My last poem of the year. The song version is called 'Swig of Lisky', swig-a slang term for a person or friend.
DBT chick ready. Sorry M, it had to be.


It had been told the boy was old and wise before his time
his locks they say were peppered gray though he was only nine
he grew to be a prodigy, read every book he could
but played as hard out in the yard this was his childhood.

he made the grade without the aid of study hall Morrone
Lo and behold God broke the mold, he had a funny bone
but rarely let it out, his quiet kind of fun
his friends will vouch he loves the couch, it's where his nappin's done.

CHORUS:
well it's my first cold of the season
and my last poem of the year
and though I sit here sneezin'
there's nothing we should fear
and I know that he will love this
and he may just shed a tear,
so i'll toast, a swig of Lisky
he's a barrelful of cheer!

his skin is fair and freckled, with eyes of grayish green
sometimes they are bespeckled but the clearest ones i've seen
he stared me down the sidewalk and I thought that I would melt
and never told him anything about the thing I felt

i met him then at seventeen h'was just a budding rose
and less the height and weight he is but that's just how it goes
got to know this gentle dude who goes without a sock
the king of conversation he's the baddest on the block

CHORUS:
it's my first cold of the season
and my last poem of the year
and though I sit here sneezin'
there's nothing we should fear
and I know that he will love this
and he may just shed a tear,
so i'll toast, a swig of Lisky
ee's a barrelful of cheer!

Well he's somewhat into music, saw the movie, read the book
periodicals take floorspace while his CDs line the nook,
Lisk ain't into artwork, window treatments, floors or walls,
it's Thanksgiving over Christmas, can't be bothered decking halls

the only one I've ever met who can make me laugh and cry
all in the same moment though I really can't say why
but when I was just seventeen and he turned the big "eight oh"
i wished that I could be around to watch that old man grow.

CHORUS:
it's my first cold of the season
and my last poem of the year
and though I sit here sneezin'
there's nothing we should fear
and I know that he will love this
and he may just shed a tear,
so i'll toast, a swig of Lisky
and God Bless the coming year!