Albino Tan Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

In the highlands of Monte La Fino
lived a scruffy but well-read old wino.
He was a deep thinker
and a serious drinker
and a pure and authentic albino.

He wasn't up there for the fun
no he wanted the high desert sun
to produce a deep tan
a most logical plan
he had taken along an old gun.

When the sun failed to get his skin brown
he discarded his hopes for a frown
and he reached in his bag
then inserted the mag
and then opened the top of his gown.

With his left he raised up his round flask
had reserved for his right the big task
and the desert went still
in respect of his will
so what happened? And why do you ask?