Echoes of That Ol’ Damn Fool Owen

Echoes of That Ol’ Damn Fool Owen

Initially I had written a petulant preamble for this, but at the time of posting thought best to skip it.

(PS, for more about Owen, scroll down to "The Shop Manager," one of the earliest things I posted here, like about a year ago.)

Echoes of That Ol’ Damn Fool Owen

I was told by my friend Owen,
That one night, and not a knowin’
He was cruisin’ for a friend in a dark bar

He saw a sharp dude over there,
With thinning black and wispy hair,
And ‘spite he’s drunk, he thought the walk not far

He stepped out with his drink in his hand
Then got a good look at his man
It was himself whom he was cruisin’, in a mirror

Now me, I’m not a man for bars
And I don’t care for muscle cars
But summers I will kayak on the lake

One morning I was paddlin’,
Towards Bass fish cove I’m travelin’,
I swear upon the shore I saw her move!

She could have been a sun bather,
Or could she be, perhaps rather,
A mermaid sirening me onto fates shore?

I called "Hello?"

With no answer I added, "Who’s there?"

"Hello."

"Permission to come ashore?"
With no answer, again, I added "I’d like to talk some more…?"

"Who’s there?"

"My name’s Ken. I just happened to be rowing by."

"Permission to come ashore."

I rowed my kayak to her ground,
Got out and looked, no one around,
A Splash! Then saw my maid was here no more

I’ve seen some strange things on the lake,
To tell you more would some time take,
Like when that monster Dunsie ate my hat

But for the while I paddled home
I did feel quite assured, alone
That least for honor, I retained my pride

For far as I can see today,
I’m glad I’m not romancing me
Like my drunk friend,
  that ol’ damn fool Owen.