They Smoke That Pipe

Her painted face was so pallid,

Her eyes held such dark circles,

But you’ll sing her sacred ballad

While you leap through her well designed hurdles.

Her teeth were white

And straight,

There was a gap dead in the center,

But you’ve already taken the alluring bait

When you only drop by to meet her.

She dwelt on a small goat farm,

She was her daddy’s little twenty-year-old girl.

Boys,

I won’t spin you no yarn,

She’s eager to give ya a good whirl.

Her soldier Pop got a satellite dish,

You won’t believe what they all liked watching!

Many men could whisper their most debauched wish,

Just don’t allow anybody anywhere to catch you.

Her attractive blond haired sister was really wild,

And simply loved dropping down,

She was the eldest child,

A seasoned professional who was no damn clown.

But how was I to know

That I was being led into a trap?

I proudly sauntered down with her to that old backwoods trailer house.

When we both walked inside,

There on that worn out couch her crazy sister

Was taking a nap.

We stepped quietly as a mouse,

Her sister immediately sat up,

She told me to walk o’er there to the couch,

So forward I moved with a stiff-legged strut.

They both gazed into my eyes with a sudden demented smile

As they gradually melted toward the floor,

Looking back

Maybe I should have bolted out for a Texas mile,

If only I’d known what horrors lay in store.

Both loved to smoke that pipe,

They licked the stem with an amazing gusto,

And never the eggs out of any spite.

There had been maybe a hundred more in my place,

But how was I to ever know?

It felt so good I sensed the time must be right.

Soon my mind flew into outer space!

These vixens

Love to smoke that pipe,

And I don’t mean maybe,

They do so with all their might,

For them it's  second-nature gravy.

So

On down toward the floor they both go,

My stiff stem lying there in between,

The eldest tends to go real slow,

But I swear

The younger one is hungry

And mean!

They both smoke that pipe,

Even as the honey commences to flow,

From evening to morning sunlight,

For somebody somewhere

I sense they must be putting on a show..

Stop in at that Black Oak farm,

And this you’ll need to know,

You shall be swayed by their elegant charms,

While the carnal addiction then grows.

Man,

I won't tell you any yarn,

You’ll simply hand ‘em all yer damn money,

If you step out with them into that hay barn.

Don’t laugh cause it aint funny!

Yeah,

Them gals love to smoke that peace pipe,

They’re the best of any I’ve ever found,

From dusk all the way down into daylight;

But don’t you dare spread word of this ‘round town!

They labor as they moan

And smack

Son,

They’ll  have you begging to be broke,

If first you don’t have a heart attack

And choke..