Old Man Johnson Poem by Kewayne Wadley

Pull out your best suit
Grab that old shabby iron,
heat it up on the stove and
Knock those wrinkles out.

If any excuse would do
Old man Johnson has died.
Sad but true.

Whether he owes you money
Or gave you a passing glance.
Come pay your respects.
I'll further advise,
Not to expect further payment

He passed away quiet
Like a still wind blown through the night.
Finally knowing freedom.

His porch now lonely, gray.
I'd surely expect him to be in his slice of heaven.
Away from that ole devil,
His wife.

Mean, surly.
An old junkyard dog, mad for no reason.
She'd take those old blues albums and hide them anywhere.
That damn woman.
He'd always say. That damn woman.

If any excuse would do.
Just to get out the house,
Anything.
Old man Johnson has died.
Sad but true.

They say our father in heaven
Couldn't bare to see him suffer any more.
Those old rickety bones jiving to the sound of heavenly trumpets.
Away from that old devil.
That damn woman. Laughing by the casket.

Pull out your best suit
Grab that old shabby iron and knock those wrinkles out.
If you've come expecting money.
He's given me a message to delay once he was buried in the ground.
Especially to that damn woman.
That all the money he had, was buried with him