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Paul the Lion

Rookie (Born in the fall of his 19th year / Comin' home to a place he'd never been before)

Sweet Country Girl and I


My eyes first caught her across the street
She looked like someone I'd fancy to meet
She was wearing a long violet dress
But I was rugged and my hair was a mess

You were wondering who was this cat
Sitting on a rotten bench in a dirty cowboy hat
On his guitar he was trying to play some John Denver song
You laughed because half of his chords were wrong

She walked up and asked if I wanted a cuppa joe
I boyishly smiled and said 'I reckon so'
I strolled down the dirt road with this girl in a pretty gown
She said there wasn't a single paved street in town

At the restaurant he informed you that he was from Amarillo
Where the cops are awful and the democrats are yellow
You smiled and said 'tha pigs are worse here, I'll bet ya'
You nonetheless added 'welcome to Georgia'

I grinned as I stuck a Marlboro in my mouth
And told her it was my sixth trip down south
I said I enjoyed rural towns in this part of the States
Where life is simple with no technological updates

You somberly said you no longer find this place desirous
For the city of Atlanta is spreading like a virus
You said your days are full of concern and strife
For Atlanta's threatening your way of life

After coffee we took a long walk in the park
It was peaceful, there were no dogs there to bark
I told her I though she was very pretty
And apologized that I was so dirty

You bashfully accepted the compliments from this young man
And said 'well ah tra to make masef as beautiful as ah can'
Then he kissed you, which was a bit of a surprise
But you didn't mind as you closed your eyes

I felt kinda guilty for kissing her quickly without reason
So I told her she was obviously very smart and a good person
I said she was much nicer than city slicking bitches
Who are materialistic, dishonest and untrustworthy snitches

You looked into his weather hardened yet pretty face
And offered to take you both back to your place
He lowered his head and shyly agreed
You were glad you didn't have to plead

I awoke before her
With my mind a blur
But I hurriedly left a note saying I must catch a Greyhound
For it was San Francisco where I was bound

You woke up with an empty stare
For he was not there
You probably thought to him it was just a game
And that all men are the same

Submitted: Friday, March 10, 2006

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  • Rookie Joyce Chelmo (4/28/2006 4:41:00 PM)

    Wonderfully written narrative in rhyme, It would make a good country song, but it's a little long. She sounds like a girly girl to me.. I bet she was lovely. Awesome write my friend.

    Joyce (Report) Reply

  • Rookie K. Jared Hosein (3/19/2006 12:09:00 AM)

    Another fine piece by you that is reminiscent of characters that can be found straight out of a Jack Kerouac narrative, but equipped with rhyme and an alternating first and third person storytelling that makes this intriguing, even to its subtly downtrodden last lines. An impressive read.

    - K. (Report) Reply

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