Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Mr. Throckmorton, if you please
if it turns out shirley mac really knows her stuff
and isn't just the biggest wing nut since a '74 Schwinn
i hope i come back as Ernest Throckmorton,
the son of Norman and Elizabeth Throckmorton
there's gotta be money in a name like Throckmorton
even a locker at the club
Ernest bass is a hillbilly
ernie baker would be a decent third baseman
Ernest tubb is a hillbilly that can sing better
than the hillbilly Ernest bass
Ernest e zackmueller would be an old farmer that smells bad
ernie johnson would be the junier varsity coach
and ernie potts the garbage man
but Ernest Wainwright Throckmorton II would reek of old money!
and there's a lot in a name
ever met a homecoming queen named Bertha? Edna? Gertrude?
nope, there all over at Beulah's for a slumber party
ever know an eddie who wouldn't swindle ya?
or a small laughless hank?
ever known an andy you couldn't trust or a whore named Martha?
see! that's how it is!
i was just born with the wrong name
it just lays there like a sack of cement
siblings too, tom, bob and sister sue
geez, i've been doomed from the get go
do you think it a coincidence
that the farm girl was mary ann? the actress, Ginger?
the buffoon, gilligan and the rich guy, Thirston?
or that the barber was floyd, the dopey deputy, barney
and the butcher is always sam?
and Marcia Brady was the all American cheerleader
while brother Greg-the star quarterback
-did i mention archie the bigot? his dim witted wife edith,
or fred, the junk man?
and of course, the maid would be alice and the aunt, bee
yeah, of course
hollywood has always known
but if i was Ernest W Throckmorton II,
boy, then you'd see something!
I'd be there in my dark study
cozy in my smoker, sippin my brandy
the dark book case lined with important looking shit
no one would ever actually read
i would settle my pipe on the small table
once owned by Thomas Jefferson
poke the fire, (cuz that's what us rich guys do)
i would rattle my wall street journal
and uh hmm a lot as i scowled
to the fools losing money
i'd bet i'd golf better too
and write? Holy smokes how i'd write!
then i'd toss em in the fire and snort at how easy it is
i'd probably walk with a cane too, cuz us rich guys look cool that way
and I'd spend a lot of time at the window
hands behind back
sometimes rubbing my chin
cuz we rich guys think a lot
and i'd say, "Good day, madame"
and use a lot of big words to impress my colleagues
and i bet i'd never fart cuz we rich bastards eat good
-might miss that
oh! if only i was Ernest Throckmorton!
and you know what?
i'd marry Gwendolyn Steinhousen
cuz she has all the right syllables
and none of our children would have less than two
even the donald is never called don or the don
robert, thomas, richard and susan
see how easy it is!
but alas, it's too late in this life
just plain rick sinkel thud for a few more years
budweisers, bad golf, empty pockets
and Mcdonalds farts
but boy oh boy
you just wait til next life
then you'll see!
it's all in the name