Poem Number 3460

The first day was closer to the 4th
His saunter was bent and northeast by north
Up duck neath the bushes he went
To clear out any injuns circling his tent
Firecracker shooting and bottle rocket messages sent
To ward off the marauders with their teepee scent
The ruckus caused the neighbors to spy
And burly men came to look down from the sky
Curled up in his hole, he cowered to their stares and pokes
He wished that he had stayed home back with his old folks
One of the big men shouted a line or six
And our hero barricaded himself with some sticks
The burly men lit their pipes with mountain coal fires
Latching on to the lad in his stick pit with a hot pair of pliers
"There there, kind gent, we only come for a smoke"
Said they, "and some hot tindered coal fires to stoke"
The young man then lifted his soul from the stick gated pit
And dressed himself in his shiny top hat shined with spit
With rough bended fingers wrapped in old-fashioned tweed
The burly men from their satchels pulled the curly swamp weed
It smelled strong and they all laughed ferverishly as they worked it
The laughter grew louder as the top-hatted feller asked for their weed permit
The chuckles now ceased and frowns came in their wake
And the men grew angered that they needed a permit to bake
The largest of the burly men pulled out his six-shooter filled with fire
Pointing it at the top hot man and then using it to fire up his pipe to get higher
Clearly ignored, our man slipped quietly back into his hole
And to draw up some plans, some parchment from a cupboard he stole
His first plan he wrote was to somehow wrangle the six shooter and the weed
He then noted that it must be done swiftly and with a great deal of speed
He'd need to summon an injun to cause a mighty distraction
And devise a long distance tool with telescoping slide action
Meanwhile, the burly men were circled and in a deep, drooling slumber
This provided him the opportunity to calculate their weight and age number
With protractor and compass and mathematics machine
He went to work building the tool that would the gun and weed glean
Tools and mind grinding away to fulfill the day's destiny and his deed doing
Almost finished he shimmered his vision at the contraption and was reviewing
He gave it a final proud shine with the hair on his chin
And called it good and done as he wrapped the handle in finest goose skin
The summoned injun created a mighty flash-bang and everyone at the bum camp was blinded
Up and out our top-hat friend jumped with the devised tool and his bleeding mind minded
With a lickety split he worked the tool and snatched the six shooter and weed
He also garnished the satchel in his moment of high minded greed
Off into the dark, green forest he ran with a mind full of excited thoughts and plans
The first thing to do was gather more pot and some pans
And encircle his territory with fire worked booby traps and pit falls
All those things done he retreated into the foresty tree walls
With all his new goodies scattered about in his new camp all to himself
And with the most valuable goodies placed up high on the tip top shelf
He crafted a fire and orated a poem called "Ode to the 4th"
And lit up his high mind as high up as is north