An Old Copper Poem by Tom Billsborough

He used to pound the beat,
But now no longer.
He now expounds on how
To beat the pounds
That widen out the girth
And threaten health,
Still laying down the law,
As in his former days,
In all the local bars.
Fists may pound
The counter to remind
As he omits to stand his round,
But does he listen? No!
Ears pound and beat
A quick retreat,
Poor souls,
To distant watering holes
No more say
Hello, hello, hello
As he comes their way.