Bottle Scars

[couchgrouch]

Bottle ScarsIn some old rodeo taverna waitress served another roundall night she heard cowboys talk,about tough times and hard knocksand getting up when they were downthey bragged about pain they'd sufferedwhen they'd had too much rye or ginone got thrown by a steer,so he grew his bushy beardto hide the jagged mark on his chinO we all have our bottle scarscos we mess up when we let down our guardour brains go soft then things get hardbut sometimes we learn about who we arejust from our bottlescarsone hand showed where he was bittentrying to tame a wolf with moonshinethen a wrangler lifted his shirt,revealing where he'd been hurtriding a bull after a jug of winethat barmaid brought one more bottleand found them squirming in their stoolscos a stablehand from down south,took all his front teeth outto prove he'd been kicked by a muleyeah, we all have our bottle scarscos we mess up when we let down our guardour brains go soft then things get hardbut sometimes we learn about who we arejust from our bottlescarsthen that waitress said, "I've listenedto tales of broken teeth and skinbut once I chugged some Tanqueray,and then nine months to the dayI had a rodeo man's eight pound twins"well, those drunks just stared a secondand thought about whose scar was worsethen they laughed and raised a toast,cos no one else's came closeno cowboy'd suffered pain like hersbut we all have our bottle scarscos we mess up when we let down our guardour brains go soft then things get hardbut sometimes we learn about who we arejust from our bottlescars(c)2004 Robert George