Sittin’ out in the
pasture under blue skies
Just watchin’ the
cowpies get covered in flies,
I was think’n of
Russell as often I do
And how elbow holes
exist in Big Blue.
And my eyes misted
over, my nose dripped down goo
As I pondered the
fate of that shirt named Big Blue.
Oh, shirt of all
shirts, though faded and torn,
The best of all
shirts to ever be worn.
No trash bin for you!
No rag for to dust!
You must be
protected! You must be! You must!!
I smiled, most
contented, no…no mop for spilled vase…
For you I would make
into my pillowcase,
And there lay my
hair, my heart and my head,
Dreaming sweet dreams with Big Blue on my bed.
JO ANZALONE