Lurleen’s Epic Birthday Ballad

It’s 10:30 at night.  I start work in 7 hours.  I hate having teenagers.  At least when they were little, they did all their terrible stuff during daylight hours.  Now, their feeble brains don’t start working until noon, which means it’s dinner time before they even start ramping up for the entertaining behaviour.

I wish I could drink.  I’d really, really like a Guinness right now.

My best friend complained that it’s been a while since Cletus hit the blog.  Fine: here’s Part II.  I wrote this for my friend’s birthday.  Sidecars are her favourite drink (and, as the spring here was cold, she had been partaking regularly – for her health, of course), and Willie Mortis is a sheep-shaped hot water bottle cover that my friend carts around like a security blanket (she’s always cold).  Willie Mortis has morted a thousand times, but he seems to resurrect just as frequently.  My friend also has a thing about Ralph Fiennes.

*Edit*: Apparently, the proportions given in the sidecar recipe are “incorrect”.  She recommend the Holy Trinity recipe instead. (That would be equal quantities of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  I’ll leave it up to you to figure out which one is which….)


Lurleen’s Epic Birthday Ballad

It were a fearsome night
When them winds did howl
Much comparable like
Our ol’ Cletus’ bowel

An’ our Lurleen was laid up
Right frail in her bed
While memories of Sidecars
Smashed ‘round in her head

“I’z comin’!” cried Cletus
As Lurleen did loud moan
“I’z bringin’ yer basin
Jus’ let me hang up this phone!

“The doctor does say
To jus’ stays put where you are
Yewl be fine by tomorrow
‘Slong as you don’t drink no more Sidecar”

“Oh, Cletus!” she whispered
Paws clamped to her head
“Ah regrets it, Ah does
Ah wish Ah wuz dead

“No more celebratin’ birthdays
– or sports wins, them too
for it does mess with mah brains
an’ makes me wanna spew”

“Mah luv!” cried ol’ Cletus
“Mah dumplin’, mah wine!
What can Ah do
To make you feel fine?”

“‘Less you dun gots
Ralph Fiennes there in yer drawers
Ah thinks Ah might needs
Mah old friend Willie Mortis”

“Oh luvie, oh lambie,
Oh pie of my eye,
Don’t you rightly recall
That Willie Mortis did die?
“Just after that ‘ccasion
When we celebrated the weasel
You had all them Sidecars
Which made you feel measle-
y and when you was recoverin’
You useded old Wills
To make you feel better
An’ he cured all yer ills
But now he’s not nothin’
But a wee pile o’ white pills

“His innerds,” gasped Lurl
Her need was so darn
“Just stuffses his innerds
Into somethin’ quite warm”

“Ah shall!” vowed ol’ Cletus
For he did loves her so true
“Ah’ll do right near anythin’
For the recovery of you!”

From the dank bathroom cupboard
Will’s innards he did grab
And rushed off in search
Of a covering so fab

“A towel?” he mused
“No, that just ain’t right
Them’s for puttin’ ‘neath us
On a ro-man-tic night

“A sweater, perhaps
Or a blankie or sheet?
Oh, noes!” he did declare
“Ah’ll gets her a sheep!”

An’ off to the barnyard
Our Cletus did wuddle
To save our Lurleen
From becoming a puddle

“Here, sheepy, sheepy
Ah needs a volunteer
Jus’ brings yer fat self
Right over here

“Now this won’t hurt a bit
Jus’ you open yer mouth
And take these warm innerds
Inside a’ yerself

“Oh, dear, they don’t fits
Can you open up wider?
We must get these fine innerds
All the ways down inside yer

“This just is not workin’!
What will we do now?
We must help the recovery
Of that drunken ol’ cow

“Now waits! Here Ah see
A solution to be had
Just gives me yer other end
And Ah’ll shoves them up… wait, where’s yer ‘nads?”

“I’z dyin!” Lurleen
Most loudly did moan
So he scooped up the stuffed sheepy
And ran long home

“Ah gots it!” Clete cried
“Ah gots Wills fer you
Ah will lay her aside you
You against ewe”

Ol’ Lurleen, she did shiver
And with ecstasy did shudder
As she snuggled with Wills
While avoiding the udder

“Oh Cletus,” she sighed
“This is mighty damned fine
Now why don’t you go have
Yerself a cup o’ spud wine
Ah’ll be to rights soon
Now that Ah have my Wills
Ah foreswears all them sidecars
Ah’ll have no more ills”

“Nighty-night, my luv
My sweet-assed Lurleen
Happy Birthday, old girl
Happy Birthday, an’ sweet dreams”

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