Death Eats a Moon Pie

Death Eats a Moon Pie                                    June 23, 2007

Sitting on a porch overlooking seven states,
Looking for the answer, but not getting any breaks,
A lonely old soul pontificates to a "squiter" bug
Whilst drinking an RC and eating a Moon Pie.
"Go West, little sucker, you'll be Bama bound,
Or due South for some Peach preserves and frog royalty.
North Carolina is a quaint lil' cuss,
But nothing seems to beat my perch on Lookout Mount."

And Fate seems to laugh a good ol' chuckle,
For this man's marbles have fallen out of his bag.
Should be about time for a little denouement,
As every story appears to have, and this one's no different.
The Grim Reaper taps his shoulder and arrests his heart
And charges him for inhaling his due course.
However, he'll let him finish his snack.
Can't keep a man from his RC and Moon Pie.

And there's something the Reaper should know
That a ghost or carpetbagger shouldn't ever go home
Without having tasted of those sweet Southern treats
Bought on a street corner in towns like Mayberry.
Life is slow, but this tradition'll never get old,
And no matter if all should perish and life ceased to thrive,
Some how, some way, this would find a way.
A RC and a Moon Pie will never be deceased.