She Is Only Mean

I thought at first that she was a sailor By the way that she drank and cursed, Then I though that she was a satiric poet By the way that her cussing was elegantly versed. But, of course she was neither one As I began to study and think, She isn't either a sailor or a poet As I listened to her cuss and watch her drink. Before every other word that she spoke I had to place a finger into my ear, That word undoubtedly would be blasphemous And it, I didn't want to hear. She just enjoyed to drink and to curse With one word and drink after another, She would always began with someone's son Then would always end with another one's mother. I tried to understand her drinking Or to pinpoint where it all had began at, But, the only thing that I could figured out She was once a navy brat. Her mother she never cursed And her father didn't pass her that drinking gene, So, after I put one and one together She drinks and curses, because she is mean. Randy L. McClave