Sam’s Place

Just hangin’ around, West Des Moines town,

  I’m feelin’ down and I’ve got a frown.

I see the sign, drinks, beer and wine,

  make me feel fine, at least I am tryin’.

Sat on a stool, tried to look cool.

  some drunk old fool, stinks like a mule.

Brewery’s on strike, there’s nuthin’ I like,

  maybe I’m psych, shoulda’ took a hike.

Rotten wood floor, patch on the door,

  been here before, don’t know what for.

The juke box will rock, the war is a crock,

  this ain’t my block, so I shouldn’t squawk.

Sam’s is the place, my troubles to face,

  it’s no disgrace, that this is my base.

Woman walks in, she’s halfg full of Gin,

  I give her a grin, but I just can’t win.

Pool in the back, a Quarter a rack,

  getting’ no slack, I’m on the wrong track.

Buck Owens song, in Sam’s I belong,

  crowd sings along, their voices are strong.

A Quarter or two, for Buck and his crew,

  before he is through, he’ll drive off the blue.

Barmaid’s a star, five string guitar,

  an empty tip jar, won’t get her far.

I hear a shout, big fight breaks out,

  it’s quite a bout, winner’s in doubt.

Too long I have strayed, with problems self-made,

  my troubles won’t fade, am I being played?

Look at the mirror, how’d I get here?

  drank too much beer, head ain’t so clear.

Go back to the room, trip on a broom,

  here in the gloom, feels like a tomb.

Maybe someday, I’ll find my way,

  but what can I say, I’m just a stray.

LDT Nov 26, ‘22

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