Indolence

Indolence, thy name is ME!
Waste! and Sloth! and Apathy!

I wake up slow, I sit and pout,
I wonder what it's all about,
I brew a bit of coffee up
I slouch around and drink a cup.

I make a plan to go and work,
But soon find some excuse to shirk,
I Yodel and I pick guitar,
Imagine I'm some singing star.

I sally forth just after noon
Into a gorgeous day in June.
And though I've wasted half of it
I set myself to work a bit.

But soon I find it is the brink
of five, and so I have a drink,
and sit and watch the evening creep
and fade, then shuffle off to sleep.

Sales are Extremely Depressed

Time rolled along and so did the fries
in a vending cart parked under festival skies
when you left me I felt alright, I guess
but sales were extremely depressed.

Festival romance is bad they all said
better just stick to a quick turn in bed
now I've got a new girl, and we're heading out west
but my sales have stayed deeply depressed.

With your bright little nod, and your cute little wink,
they might come for the fries but you sold them a drink
as a cook-and-clerk team we were simply the best
but you left me, and sales are depressed.

A Tale of two Dickens

In south West Virginia, and poverty stricken,
two singers were born with the same surname: Dickens.

Little Jimmy lit out and he conquered the south,
a diminutive man with a very big mouth.

Hazel went east, where she worked in the city,
Her songs full of pain, her voice lonesome and gritty.

I'm told they're related; I'm not sure how close,
they might be third cousins, or second at most,

but the difference is sharp twixt our two heroes Dickens,
she observed like a bird while he crowed with the chickens.

You can pick out a favorite, there's no harm in this.
I've got my preference, I won't tell you which.

But I'm thankful for both, and the music they sang,
for Hazel and Jimmy, the yin and the yang.