Ode to Cabo Nick
Chip Up To His Ears
April, as my seven loyal readers know, is National Poetry Month. There is nothing on earth quite like the PCGC membership in lambic pentameter. Sit back and enjoy a road trip with Cabo Nick and the boys.
Billy, where the hell is here,
we were stopping for just one beer!
Moon drive toward that red star,
when did I get a tattoo, and who are these women in the car?
Big Cat grab us a map at that last chance Texico,
what’s that you say, we are in Jaurez, Mexico.
My head was fuzzy and under a strain,
Cabo Nick, please, please, explain.
Well Chip, this may not be a good way to begin,
we lost track after ten, he said with a grin.
We decided to take a road trip the very next day,
I accepted the conditions of your wager come what may.
You bet in 72 hours not a woman I could wed,
so we headed south to my Mexican Club Med.
I won with very little effort or trouble,
then you yelled, nothing or double.
What good fortune, my new wife has a sister,
that will teach you to pop off, mister.
Tattooed on your arm is Mr. Jurgins, commonly know as Jack,
wait till you see my family portrait inked on your back.
Humbled and hungover, I had to admit to my fail,
by the way, he said, you owe for Mike Love’s bail.
So be careful if silly wagers you should make,
know the rules and what’s at stake.
Never bet with the guys who are smooth and slick.
the house always wins, unless you are Cabo Nick.