I woke up one morning, in Wichita falls
After driving all night, under intense rainfall
I had driven by, but didn't stop
This parlor, which was a tattoo shop
I had to return, before I forgot
To this little drummer tattoo shop
I remember seeing the awning
It looked rundown and nearly falling
But never judge a book by its cover
Only to be done, one from another
This little shop, from the inside out
Had people talking, gaining clout
I walked right in, there was a long line
My jaw nearly dropped, this place was refined
Their attention was courteous, their service devine
That day I was tattooed and forever enshrined
Next time i'm in town, i'll remember to stop
By the little drummer tattoo shop.
C. Vergara
05.20.2009
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem