JEFFREY THE FOX
The tortoise had purpose
And the hare was there
Running in races
From here to nowhere
But I am a sly fox
And I’ll see you there
Timing the paces from here to nowhere
The tortoise named Horace
A rabbit named Fred
I’m a fox named Jeffrey
Let’s put this to bed
The turtle determined
The rabbit had speed
But I have what they want
I’ve got what you need
The race started early
The tortoise the hare
I entered a bit late
The race to nowhere
One sped by me
Confident he’d already won
The other had pace like
A six shooter gun
But victorys sweet when you haven’t a care
A fox smiling thinking from here to nowhere
The race started early
The tortoise the hare
I entered a bit late
The race to nowhere
The bunny was funny we took time for beers
He wiggles his wet nose and perked up his ears
The tortoise inched by me and I didn’t win
I may not be first place but I’m his best friend
The race started early
The tortoise the hare
I entered a bit late
The race to nowhere
See Nowheres too futile
Racing everyday
With sore joints and backbones
Too old to make hay
But friends are blue ribbons
To this sly old fox
I’ll take to the backyard
In my brown cardboard box
NOT ENOUGH LOVE SONGS
There’s not enough love songs about 40-year-old women
I hope this one finds you well
All those young pop stars who sing about moms
Have records and products to sell
Well, I ain’t hawking nothing, my 401k’s awesome,
But my brain’s no longer clear as a bell.
There’s not enough love songs about 40-year-old women
So I’ve got a story to tell.
She was pretty when I met her, I won’t soon forget her,
But friend, you should see her now.
Her gray lights are curly but beautiful surely
I’m glad that I bought the cow.
She’s more fun to take out, I like eating steak out,
When she was twenty, she ate like a bird.
She’s smarter and sassy, and she doesn’t need to ask me
If I want my towels embroidered.
Her humor’s been refined by shows that have defined
The last forty years of our lives.
You’d be lucky to say hi, though she might just wave goodbye
She’s on a mission for stainless steak knives.
Her music’s stayed recent, but the nineties were decent,
Our son thinks there were dinosaurs then.
But she knows when a new star, drove a mickey mouse club car
She’d rather daydream about Paul Newman.
So I’ll boil it down here in this bridge about my dear.
Our twenties and thirties were lit.
But we’ll never be lonely, she’s my old and only
And those curves? Hey, I’m not dead yet.
DON’T DRINK ALL YOUR WHISKEY
Chorus
Don’t run out of whiskey on Sunday. Don’t drink it all on Saturday night. Don’t finish your beer till Monday, friend everything will be all right
Cowboys they love their cervezas. But liquor is quicker by far. So if you start early round noontime. They don’t drive a horse or a car.
Ladies like fruit in their cocktails. Fellas like ladies just fine. Careful though if she says no sir. That’s where we all draw the line.
I’ll have a Lone star with lime wedge. She’ll have a whiskey that’s neat. I found out that neat just means whiskey. Oh, Lady, I’m pleased we could meet.
So sober up Cowboy on Sunday.
Til Texas allows Sunday sale.
But if your thirsty after service.
You can buy a beer or an ale.
drink up young cowboy on Sunday
But wait til the choir is done
Singing just as I am yessir
You’ll be at the Saloon by one.
(But Cowboy, if you *do* drink all your whiskey…)
Maybe try coffee and orange juice for breakfast.
Perhaps drink a tonic at noon.
Have soda pop with your supper.
Monday’s gonna be here soon.
Don’t run out of whiskey on Sunday…
Don’t drink it all Saturday night.
Don’t finish your Lone Star till Monday.
Friend—everything will be all right!
I’VE STILL GOT A CRUSH
A candid Polaroid of you
Sits on the dash by my rear view
In my 13 year old faded car
we’ve come so far
We got matching tattoos and though
We sat there at the studio
Yours has a head it’s apple-like
And this is not a pipe
We don’t go out much
The cool kids at work say we’re out of touch
Compared with then I really don’t know much
But I’ve still got a crush
(I don’t mean to gush)
They say Brb and LoL
I’m sure that I should wish them well
But I wish they would go to smell
The roses
But focusing on what we’ve done
I’m happy he’s your number one
I’m second to our only son
He’s Got my nose
We don’t go out much
The cool kids at work say we’re out of touch
Compared with then I really don’t know much
But I’ve still got a crush
(I don’t mean to gush)
While we’re at each other’s throats some days
We’ll be feeding chicks and goats one day
Outside our vintage four square house we’ll say
I can’t believe we made it,
But I can because we gave it
Our best
We don’t go out much
The cool kids at work say we’re out of touch
Compared with then I really don’t know much
But I’ve still got a crush
(And yes, I meant to gush)
Rich Williams 