The Butters Blues Poem by Paul Butters

It's a cruel old, desperate world.
Yes it's a cruel old, desperate world.
Don't often do the blues,
But you'll know it when I do.

So hard to be a Reject,
Yes, so very hard.
So lonesome on your own.
You know where I'm going.

Those women do the choosing,
Yes Siree.
They sure do the choosing
And they ain't picking me.

No passing on my DNA,
The line stops here.
No children will I produce,
Though I ain't a queer.

Can I say that now?
In this PC world.
Probably not,
But my flag's unfurled.

Well I warned you all.
These are my blues.
I'd much rather be writing
About some blue suede shoes.

Chuck Berry rocks
I have to say.
Like him I'd rather
Send you smiling
On your way.

These blues are haunting
And full of soul.
I'd rather be uplifting.
That's my goal.