William Butler Yeats in jeans 

Got up to play guitar and sing 

In some join in Mission Beach last night 

At the door sat Tom Waits 

In a pork pie hat and silver skates 

Jugglin' three collection plates Jesus Christ 



Townes Van Zandt standin' at the bar 

Skinnin' a Hollywood movie star 

Can't remember where he parked his car 

Or to whom he lost the keys 

Full of angst and hillbilly haiku 

What's a poor Ft. Worth boy to do 

Go on rhyme somethin' for em' man 

Show him how you really feel 



Chorus 



Ain't no money in poetry 

That's what sets the poet free 

I've had all the freedom I can stand 

Cold dog soup and rainbow pie 

Is all it takes to get me by 

Fool my belly till the day I die 

Cold dog soup and rainbow pie 



Ginsberg and Kerouac 

Shootin' dice and playin' Ramblin' Jack's guitar 

With the cowboy paintin' pickguard on it 

And they sat in the back and drank for free 

And rhymed orange with Rosalie 

Now there's a pride of lions to draw to 



Chorus