Pickled Ol’ Man Poem by Kay Barcelon

In the middle of a scorching desert
There lives a pickled old man
A pickled heart and a pickled frankfurt
He reminds me of the old vinegar man

He has the same old frown and a sour face
You can smell his pungent stench a mile away
His bad habits has turned him into this disgrace
You will not pity but turn away in dismay

He just celebrated another birthday
Getting a day older didn’t help his pride
With his battered ego reasons will not weigh
He has no mercy he’ll get you hog-tied