William Butler Yeats in jeans   Got up to play guitar and sing   In some join in Mission Beach last night      At the door sat Tom Waits   In a pork pie hat and silver skates   Jugglin' three collection plates Jesus Christ      Townes Van Zandt standin' at the bar   Skinnin' a Hollywood movie star   Can't remember where he parked his car   Or to whom he lost the keys      Full of angst and hillbilly haiku   What's a poor Ft. Worth boy to do   Go on rhyme somethin' for 'em, man   Show him how you really feel      Ain't no money in poetry   That's what sets the poet free   I've had all the freedom I can stand      Cold dog soup and rainbow pie   Is all it takes to get me by   Fool my belly till the day I die   Cold dog soup and rainbow pie      Ginsberg and Kerouac   Shootin' dice and playin' Ramblin' Jack's guitar   With the cowboy paintin' pickguard on it      And they sat in the back and drank for free   And rhymed orange with Rosalie   Now there's a pride of lions to draw to      Ain't no money in poetry   That's what sets the poet free   I've had all the freedom I can stand      Cold dog soup and rainbow pie   Is all it takes to get me by   Fool my belly till the day I die   Cold dog soup and rainbow pie