(Robert A. Wilders - adapted from a poem by Robert Burns)
Never scorn a poor poet like me
For idly just living and breathing.
While people around of every degree.
Are busy employed about----NOTHING.
The lover may sparkle and grow.
Approaching his wedding day romancing.
But marriage will soon let him know.
He’s gotten all dressed up for----NOTHING.
The thundering bully may rage and storm.
And swagger and swear like a heathen.
But collar him fast is what I say.
You’ll find that his courage is----NOTHING
Last night with a feminist friend.
A poet she couldn’t put her faith in.
But soon we both grew lovingly big.
I taught her, her fears were----NOTHING.
Her friendship was wonderfully pleasing.
And a charmingly tickled plaything.
Her fingers I lovingly squeezed them.
I kissed her and promised her----NOTHING.
And now I mount upon the wave.
My voyage perhaps to sink in.
But what is a watery grave?
The drowning of a poet is----NOTHING.
NOTHING
credits
from Wilderbeest,
released December 1, 2017
Nena Handlin back-up vocals/percussion
Paul Handlin drums
Michael Freeman bass
David Zaidman lead guitar
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