Busted Flat in
Down and out blues
Weigh heavy as a sack of
potatoes
On shoulders wearily in slump
Dow Jones fell like an old
pine
Toppled like an old drunk on
skid row
His heart still thumping
Like an old accordion
Played by a bowery boy
In his final gig of the year
Playing Aud
Lang Syne
Whiskey hand tremors
From rocky roads
Walked with gait too proud
Fumed breath roaring sentimental
tunes
Sung in lower keys
Gravelly voice pouring
With preacher’s fire
Wobbly feet rolling
Down wharf row
Where ship horns bleat
Old derelict depreciation
Plunging currency
Follows his wrinkled brow
His motley over coat
A royal bluff
For a folded hand
