EDDIE

EDDIE

Roger A. Davis

Those hip-hugger swaying hips
My, what sweetly formed lips
They sing jukebox melodies
Eddie, never stop, please, please, please
Her song and her beau’s
Puts Eddie in a passionate throe
Wish it could be me, don’t you know
Yet it is enough to be in her afterglow
Garbled words, Eddie, from a country boy hick
But, Sweet Jesus, you light up my Bic