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2.

.

“She Hasn’t Got a Mean Bone”

written and performed

by George J. Raymond

copyright © 2023

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3.

She goes to church on Sunday

She goes to work on Monday

She does the very best she can

***

She loves her mother

She loves her father

Takes good care of her man

***

She hasn’t got a mean bone

***

If she ever got in trouble

it would surely pop her bubble

***

And it’s gonna break my heart

to watch her fall apart

***

Lies — she don’t tell ’em

Alibis — she don’t use ’em

She’s always true to herself

***

She sees the good in you

Ignores the bad in you

She gives everybody an even chance

***

She hasn’t got a mean bone.

---

4.

Happy 81st Birthday, Dad!

Don’t worry!

***

It’s human

nature to

want to fly

like a bird.

***

And, then,

once

you are flying

like a bird,

***

Your tired arms flapping all about

***

It’s human

nature to

want to stop,

***

and, maybe,

***

rest for a spell

on yon

electrical pole.

Just like the

famous Welsh singer

Tom Jones,

***

My dad fancied

himself to be

“the hardest working man in show-business”

***

Even though,

he was not in

show-business

***

But we played along, anyway

***

Like, when dad

would grill burgers

in the backyard

***

we’d all gather

’round nearby,

on the patio

***

and throw panties at him.

A lot of people say,

“Go, Google it”

when they want to

look-up something,

but I am from an

older generation,

so, I still say,

“Go, Funk & Wagnall it”.

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2.

3.

In grammar school

all the kids

called me,

“Fancy Pants”,

but they

weren’t wrong.

When I was a kid,

my mom taught me

a simple trick,

so, I wouldn’t cry

when I

sliced an onion

***

Stop giving them names and personalities.

***

Just as I

had done

with my

very good friend,

Mr.

Paul Onion.

***

Then, she taught

me a simple trick,

so, I wouldn’t cry

when I ate

cantaloupe slices

***

and, lo,

it was the same trick!

While going through some old boxes, looking for my kazoo, I found

the written record, taken by me, of an unfortunate

incident at my first rented flat in San Francisco in 1985

***

6 a.m.

House-mate awakens

feeling violently ill.

***

6:15 a.m.

Woken by his cries,

I immediately

fall back to sleep.

***

6:30 a.m.

Woken, again, by

his cries, I rush

to the kitchen,

and fix myself

a heaping burlap

satchel of waffles.

***

06:45 a.m.

I call the doctor.

***

07:30 a.m.

Doctor arrives,

rushes to

the kitchen,

and

fixes himself a

heaping burlap

satchel of waffles.

***

08:30 a.m.

Doctor goes to House-mate’s room.

Sends in a canary.

***

11:59 a.m.

Canary returns

with a renewed

sense of pride,

an olive branch,

and a

heaping burlap

satchel of waffles.

***

12:01 p.m.

Doctor administers medicine

***

12:02 p.m.

House-mate feels better

***

12:03 p.m.

House-mate dies.

***

12:30 p.m.

Doctor composes the Magic Flute

***

12:45 p.m.

Austrian Deluxe singer Falco records ‘Rock Me Amadeus’.

***

1:00 p.m.

George runs out of ideas for time-line bit.

***

1:03 p.m

George begins working on next bit.

***

finis

.

.

.

My wish this

Holiday Season

is for

Peace on Earth.

***

On Earth …

***

Or, on some

other planet.

***

Just so long

as there is

finally peace

***

And, so, from

all of me, to

some of you,

***

I wish a Merry Christmas,

a Happy Holiday,

and a Peaceful New Y’ar

---

2.

Why would

I be bothered by

visits from

the Ghosts of

Christmas Past,

Present

and Future,

when I am

all ready

being visited

daily

by

the Ghosts

of

Every-Single-Day

I have always

suspected that

my sister was

a changeling,

***

Each time our

mother would

go out

to collect wood,

***

my infant sister

would suddenly,

stand up,

***

dance about,

***

play the bag pipes,

drink boiled oil,

and, place

empty walnut

shells

around the fire.

***

When our mother

would return,

she’d ask,

“Who drank the boiled oil?”

***

Who do you think?!

Come on, mom, wise up!

.

.