Sour Sonnets of a Sorehead & Other Songs of the Street/Sorehead Sonnet Eleven
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Sorehead Sonnet Eleven
If any cop should find me on his beat—
Me to the Pinch House in the Hurry Cart;
That is the way me troubles always start.
He'll swear I'm sailin' wid the Schooner Fleet,
An' that I had a case of Tangled Feet.
If I ain't letter perfect in me part,
The judge will hand me out the marble heart,
An' send me hikin' to the Jags' Retreat.
They've drove me dippy in the first degree;
I'm advertisin' fer a padded cell,
The Bughouse is the only home fer me.
Just why it's so is more than I can tell,
But life is war as far as I can see—
That guy was right who said that war was Hell!