Cracklin’ Rose Poem by Marilyn Lott

There was a lady named Cracklin’ Rose
Who always was on call
She was sort of a ‘stand in’
Neither too short or too tall

She was very dependable at all times
So the Indians’ knew she was there
No doubt that he would never
Ever make the decision to share

Saturday night at sunset he knew
Cracklin’ Rose he could depend
She wasn’t all that expensive
Not a lot of money he had to spend

She’d put him off in la la land
He could count on that for sure
But boy, the next morning
A violent headache he had to endure

‘Cause Cracklin’ Rose was a bottle of booze
And would be his date for the night
There weren’t enough ‘gals to go around
So this, my friend was his plight!