The Bus Came And I Missed It

The night was long

Had a start with everything wrong

Everything would soon change for the best

Better times would come to erase the rest

Under a keen ear I thought that I

Should listen for when the Bus comes by

Couldn’t hear well with all the noise

And trouble preceded the nocturnal joys

Memory tells me that the tongue can deliver its share of blows

Each time licks breakout friends flare like foes

And here I was in Cleave Dale and the lights were out

Night was dark and we were in the middle of a bout

Drove all the way to Turner Hall Woods before

I was surprise that the shrubs weren’t a great deal more

Made my way up and stopped here tonight

I never expected she would come so quickly or even start a fight

She would wind and quarrel sometimes but never would kick

Such behavior might have been tempered with a correctional stick

Every since I was young they told me to strike back

Didn’t feel the same way so I flowed with her attack

I soon came to a place were we could mutually agree

The explosiveness was quickly dispelled with a smile and a decree