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So Long, Aesop, My Old Friend

Eh, just some foolishness I messed around with a few months ago. Hope you will enjoy it.


My friend for many years died today,
I don't mourn for him, no, indeed not.
For, after all, we are only pieces of clay,
Oh, did I say, he died after being shot?

My buddy Pamela set old Aesop up,
Fixed it so he could live his life at ease.
In a rocking chair, waitin' for his sup
Of mystery meat and little green peas.

Aesop, being the kind of mouse he is,
Soon grew very tired of this happy time.
Heck, he got to missing his sloe gin fizz,
And old friends that some called slime.

One day, he wrote all his grandchildren
A letter explaining that he had to roam.
One more time, to taste a little more sin,
The highway's always been his home.

South he returned, to a Louisiana bayou,
Aesop went looking for fine Cajun stuff.
Found the Widder Muskrat; the fur flew,
All night they went, couldn't get enough.

Makes me smile, thinking about old Aesop,
Even though he'd been put out to pasture.
He couldn't help himself but window shop,
And cute Widder Muskrat was the allure.

The ecstasy of course, didn't last too long,
Willie, the Weasel, loved the widder a lot.
Felt he had been lied to and done wrong,
Pulled his .357, old Aesop got back-shot.

Here I am, toasting Aesop, a glass held high,
No tear in my eye, I am not even depressed.
Although I may pass a sigh for the little guy,
He left this world doing what he did best.

©September 9, 2016 / Jerry Pat Bolton
Written by standingmyground
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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