Let me tell you the legend of Chew Tobacco Bill.
Because if I don’t someone else will.
He was born and raised in a tiny, little town,
Right near the ocean, when the tide was way down.


A big family of sisters and brothers had he.
Had relatives as far as the eye could see.
Most made a living straight from the ocean.
They fished, crabbed and clammed with selfless devotion.


Old, blind Edna had married one of his brothers.
Not sure which one, there were so many others.
But she was still young and she had her sight
She aged and went blind on her wedding night!


In that tiny town were at least forty named Bill.
Thirty-five of them are living there still.
It could get confusing when calling a name,
With so many of them guys having the same.


For a while they tried numbers, but that didn’t work.
There were three sets of twins by some strange quirk.
Four, five and six just kept getting all confused
They couldn’t remember which number they used.


In time the nicknames just seemed to evolve.
It went a good way, the problem to solve.
There was Wild Bill and Mild Bill and Bill the Porker.
And then Crazy Bill who was a real corker!


It seems Crazy Bill ran off with Little Bill’s wife
And she made him miserable the rest of his life.
Then Little Bill married old, blind Edna’s daughter.
And he kept her in style, just like he oughter!


Lucky Strike Bill was a chain smoker
Stone Face Bill had a face like a poker.
Mud Foot Bill? He pulled clams from the river.
His wife said there’s nothing he wouldn’t give her.


A whole bunch of Bills played cards this one night,
And one of those Bills needed a light.
All around the table, not one had a match.
Just an old Zippo lighter whose flame wouldn’t catch.


He grumbled and groused, cigarette stayed unlit.
Had a good hand of cards, not going to quit.
Opened his mouth, spread wide his jaw.
On the cigarette, he started to gnaw.


The other Bills watched, they say it was awful.
He won every hand, chewing on his crawful.
Came time to spit, he puckered his lips,
Let it fly out the window, toward the boat slips.


They say he sank three clam boats out there.
The Coast Guard Cutter, he missed by a hair!
He picked up his winnings, it gave him a thrill.
And they all waved goodbye to Chew Tobacco Bill.


All through your life, you’ll carry your name.
Let’s hope not many others have one the same.
You never know when your nickname will start.
Had beans for dinner? Well, now you’re the “Old Fart”.

 

© By Swampetta (SWAMPETTA@aol.com)

© Art by Swampetta

 

 




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My Dog

May (by RickMack)

A Lousy Love Song

Gentle Winds

Flowers Tell A Story

The Merry Month Of May

The Yardman


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