Bubba

This date would be fun he thought
As he laid out jeanís new bought,
Heíd polished up his brogan shoes
As the radio moaned country blues.

Bubba shaved his freckled face
Pruning his mustache into place
Then combed his flame red hair,
Slicking it back with utmost care.

Running late for a special date
He has to rush, must not be late.
Splashing cologne just once more
He runs out the trailer-house door.

Tripping over old Clyde the hound
He rolls down the steps to ground
Landing in a gooey puddle of mud
He choked on his juicy tobacco cud.

Hopping to his feet coated with grime
He ran for the pickup to make up time,
High-stepping out the gate he sailed
Ripping his pants as they snagged a nail.

With naked leg flapping in the breeze
Wind gusts his baseball cap up a tree
And as he slapped at a pesky bee
On the pickup door he banged a knee.

But persistent with purpose of mind
Bubba vows not to be late this time,
Excited heís dreamed of a date as this
And itís not an event he wants to miss.

He leapt in his pickup truck with a bound
Then stomps on the gas headed for town,
This time he would get the best of the rest
At the county fairís big hog-calling contest.



© Written by: Kenneth J. Ellison
11-13-03
(revised: 08-21-06)

E-mail Ken


Please visit his wonderful Website.

Poetry by Ken

Used with permission

Thank You So Much Ken
For Writing This Wonderful Poem

Used with permission











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