Thursday, February 28, 2013

4151. AT JIBOREE HOLLOW


AT JIBOREE HOLLOW
I lost my face in a moment of excess, in
Jiboree Hollow, at the end of a gun. It was
all I could do to keep from laughing, but - of
course - I have no bottom lip to laugh with
now. Everything was blown away and  -  at
the very last moment  -  all I heard were very
strange words and snippets of many things:
'oh when the saints go marching in dear Prudence
how many roads must a man walk down we're havin'
a party everybody's singin' raindrops keep falling on
my head I got a woman way over town she's good to
me but will you love me tomorrow there is a balm in
Gilead.'

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