Poems of Lighthouse Bob

Chippino #538



Chippino

We can't 'ford no gas.
We can't pay our bills.
Me and my lady
are headin' off to Phil's.

All 'bout the gath'rin'
of fish, friends, and brew.
Knee high, we're a dredgin'
to chip in for the stew.

The place is a shambles
just over on the beach
where ol' Phil's a fixin'
what local folk capiche.

Some chip a squid.
Some chip a crab.
Some chip a shrimp.
Some chip a dab
of whatever else they have.

Some chip a mussel.
Some chip a clam.
Some chip a scallop.
Some chip a hand
at just dredgin' through the sand...

...and Phil don't give a damn
as long as night stays young
and "Tu Vuò Fà L'Americano"
plays on and on and on.




Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Chippino #538

141,884 Poems Read

Sponsors