My Uncle And Mark Twain Poem by Robert Winthrop

My Uncle And Mark Twain

Rating: 5.0


My uncle was a patron of the bars up on North Main;
He also thought he knew a lot about our dear Mark Twain.
He'd sit upon his bar stool and recite from Mark Twain's books.
He wasn't fazed when tourists there would give him dirty looks.
When in his cups he'd argue facts about the author's life.
Until the poor bartender sent him home to see his wife.
The next day he was back again to drink till he was 'plowed.'
He'd sing songs from 'Big River, ' and he'd entertain the crowd.
He'd been a drunk for many years, his liver was a mess.
And how much money he had spent I wouldn't try to guess.
He'd tell how Mark was born and died the years of Halley's comet.
He'd drink till he could hold no more; then go outside and vomit.
Then came the day he was so drunk the owners made him go
He staggered up to Hill Street and in the lamplight's glow
He saw a man, all dressed in white and with a silv'ry mane.
There was no doubt about it; my uncle saw Mark Twain.
The shock was great; and then and there he laid the bottle down.
And we have never told him that Hal Holbrook was in town.

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