A BULLY’S RECKONING
Bob shot John Jones
With no remorse,
To stop his moans,
Bob shot again, of course.
Jones was the town bully,
And gave many a pummlin,’
He was mean and surly,
Some say Jones had it comin,’
You should never pick a fight
With one tougher than you,
But Jones lacked foresight,
And now he’s cold and blue,
In a shallow grave, laced with lime,
Too bad he didn’t realize,
That if there was a next time,
Never bully somebody your own size.
Or better yet, surely,
To live old and gray,
Don’t be a bully,
That’s all I’ve got to say.