Thunk ‘Melodious Thunk’ CD 1995
Mr. Argyle Sock,
Sits on his rock,
wreaking of rum
And Catholics.
Houses fall down
When he comes around,
He stands alone
In the windowframe.
With his finger in a dyke,
At the open mic,
The leaks come
Squeaking to a halt.
But if you can’t find it,
You’ll be reminded,
That it’s absolutely
Not his fault.
When you’re only
Entertaining a thought,
But the thoughts gets bored
And move away.
They’re probably
In his head now,
Having the time
Of their lives.
Mr. Argyle Sock
Picking your pocket
Funding your
cash/ weight-loss diet
Riding his bike,
Looking just like…
If he was for sale
You’d buy it.
If you could afford him,
You’d buy it.
© Robert Emmett McWhorter
published by Hermetic
Medical Records (ASCAP)
irobert.me 