Just a little Saturday silliness…
Hie Nonny Nonny and a Hot Cha-Cha!
06 Apr 2013 11 Comments
in Finding Zen, Gratitude, Humor, Music Tags: Gratitude, Hot Cha-Cha, Nonny, Saturday, Silly, Song, Spanky, Weekends
Hillbilly Zen – Silly, Silly, Silly (The Ballad of Hank)
05 Jan 2013 2 Comments
in Humor, Poetry Tags: Ballad, Coffee, Dilly, Hank, Honeybee, Mars, Silly, Sun, Tall Tale
Silly, Silly, Silly
(The Ballad of Hank)
I sat on my back porch one morning,
drinking coffee and having a smoke.
Now this story is true,
I swear, although you
might think I am telling a joke.
The sun was up long before I was,
and really was getting too hot.
So I hauled myself up,
grabbing ashtray and cup,
to search for a cool, shady spot.
I settled in under a maple,
thinking “Yeah, this is where I should be!”
Then I heard a faint humming,
looked to see what was coming
just as Hank landed on my right knee.
I’ll confess I made quite a commotion
as I leapt from my seat ‘neath the tree.
Lots of yelling and fussing
(and a wee bit of cussing)
’cause Hank is a HUGE honeybee.
“Don’t be zcared,” he gasped,
plainly exhausted,
lying flat on his back in the grass.
“I’m in no zhape to zting you,
I can juzt barely cling to
thiz pollen that’z ztuck to my azz.”
He fluttered his little wings feebly,
after taking that ill-fated dive.
“Pleaze don’t kill me,” he pleaded,
“thiz pollen iz needed!
I’ve got to get back to the hive!”
Now I don’t claim to be a spring chicken,
this ain’t my first walk ‘round the block.
But it’s pure gospel truth,
though I’m long in the tooth,
I’ve never seen bees that could talk.
So I pitied the poor little buzzer,
trying so hard to just stay alive.
He told me his name,
I told him the same,
scooped him up and set off for his hive.
He told me that bees get up early,
so this morning had been a great shock.
He’d slept in, overused
the button marked “Snooze”
on his minuscule honeybee clock.
As we walked, Hank revealed nature’s secrets,
things I never imagined I’d know:
why the sky fills with stars,
that there is life on Mars,
and what causes the breezes to blow.
I was just getting ready to ask him
something I’ve pondered for years;
how the Sun likes his coffee,
when Hank suddenly stopped me –
“I think I can make it from here.”
As I watched Hank fly off o’er the hillside,
and bid him a cheerful adieu,
I knew that this tale was a tall one.
No one would believe me,
do you?
So I sat down and wrote out this ballad for Hank,
I acknowledge that it’s quite a dilly.
Hadn’t been smoking chronic
or guzzling spring tonic,
sometimes…it’s just fun to be zilly.
hillbillyzendotcom 
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