Chuy some call him,
quite unsightly and hunched.
He's talk our heads off,
then feed us lunch!
It didn't matter where or when.
when the homies got hungry,
the food he'd call in!
When I was there to ck it out
he called in flat tortillas
and a kreel full of trout
He fed well our mouth
He opened up our head!
I cannot believe
folks want him dead!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem