Creole Woman Poem by David Welch

I went down to the Caribbean Sea,
an island paradise ahead of me.
I meant to go for just another lay,
so I went and got myself smashed that day.

Saw her standing there, with coal black eyes,
and long dark hair, that didn't disguise,
the curves she had, caught me off guard
she was the finest thing down in that bar.

As I drew up near, my ride began,
I should've feared that Creole woman.

What was in store, I did not know.
she waved me on, so I had to go.
She gave me love, oh yes, so much,
a helpless fool at her tender touch.

A night gone by, the best I ever had,
the kind of lover who drove men mad.
As morning came, I thanked sweet God,
but she was gone, and I was robbed.

I stumbled out onto the sand,
I cursed her name, Creole woman.

My passport she left, that one small gift,
the cops said she'd given the many the shrift.
The tropical waves lost their attraction,
I hopped a plane, got back to Jackson.

It started soon, the identity thieving,
had to fight every step, the stress unceasing.
A lesson learned, but which still does vex,
the things that woman can do with sex.

Next time I vacation in Japan,
far as I can get from Creole woman.