Have you met Tony Washeck, that big square dancing fellow?|
Things that would kill a lesser man just make Tony mellow.
He’s faster than a speeding bullet, mighty as a train.
Sometimes he does such crazy things his friends think he’s insane.
I have three things to tell you; I’ll tell the last one first.
Impartial logic tells me this one might have been the worst,
But of the three disasters, this one took the lesser toll;
This one traumatized his body; the others tried his soul.
I’ve ridden horses long enough to know bluff is a factor;
I didn’t know the same was true of riding on a tractor.
One Saturday when Tony got his tractor out to work,
The tractor threw him on the ground by starting with a jerk.
Oh, he could have been hurt badly or killed himself instead,
But this time luck was with him, and he landed on his head.
Disasters often come in threes, and this was number three.
The first two came the day before, as you are soon to see.
Both the windows on his truck were open all the way,
As Tony sped along the road one happy July day.
We all have had that feeling: "Someone’s here with me."
Tony had that feeling, and that someone was a bee.
This bee had poor eyesight but he wasn’t wearing glasses.
Tony’s specs would let the bee see how the landscape passes-
Or so he thought, and so he flew right into Tony’s eye.
The truck swerved wildly; Tony thrashed; the bee thought he might die.
A mighty battle followed; who’d win was nip and tuck.
The final outcome wasn’t based on skill, but only luck.
While down the highway sped the truck, the two fought mightily,
Till out the window Tony flung his glasses-and the bee.
Tony had gone into town to buy some underwear;
To mark the spot he jettisoned a brightly colored pair.
A lady motorist behind thought Tony had undressed,
And passed his truck to look inside, but drove on unimpressed.
Now Tony got the truck slowed down and turned the other way
To where his underdrawers were waving in the breezy day.
The way the sun shone on his specs he saw them at a glance,
A bit of luck-he’d want his glasses that night at the dance.
We danced that night at Everton, I’m glad that I was there,
As Tony danced so flawlessly around within his square.
He turned his head to Margie, as if to say a word,
But when he opened up his mouth a great event occurred.
Out shot Tony’s upper teeth and flew across the room!
Some folks saw them coming and thought they’d met their doom.
The teeth winged seven dancers and bounced against the wall,
Then knocked the caller off his feet in the middle of a call.
After one more ricochet their flight path grew unstable:
They dented in the coffee urn and landed on the table.
They took a bite out of a pie and would have eaten more,
But now their energy was spent, and they slid out on the floor.
Tony towered tall and straight, just like a mighty oak,
And looked around the tumbled scene of chaos, then he spoke.
But Tony is quick-witted, (I swear that this is true.)
He loudly said, "Don’t worry, Marge! I’ll get them back for you!"
If you drive up to Everton and bribe the touring guide,
He’ll unlock the dancing hall and let you slip inside.
He’ll show you teeth marks on the wall, a chewed up coffeepot,
And other ample evidence. Will you believe or not?
All of these disasters gave Tony’s friends a scare:
They wouldn’t stand beside him outside or in a square.
Oh, they still loved the big guy; the thought to them was frightening
Of knowing they might not survive if he got struck by lightening.
But I have quite a different view: I take it as a sign
That after these catastrophes he feels and looks just fine.
In lightening, hail, or earthquake, I’ll trust in his endurance.
Standing right by Tony’s side’s as good as life insurance!
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