Crony Clit

Ah met em round Cocoon in a rusted burnt out old Chevy
Ah sat dim and down in the salon, sipped an ebony beer that was half a mile too heavy  
E rode in the driver seat carted along by six ancient mules
So ah sold em some tiger meat, ah told em it’ll put the kick straight back into hiss jewels
So e bent to kiss ma feet and said,
“Bliss was meant to flap and fleet”
But is just wiggled before it bled

And e tossed that old meat in the sun
And te ants had sex and had they fun

E said “Call me Crony Clit”
“Cos ah croons a bits” e grasped is heart
Den is head
“Won’t you buy us a slice o bread?”
Then laughed hard den he sung
“Won’t you buy us a jug o wine?”
“Or just a gun, a bullet and a word to tah wise”
E peered true dem shattered glasses
Just to stare at the meat out der in the sun
With a crooked smile e whipped his a s ses
And dem ancient mule’s trot turned to a run