Day: June 30, 2018

June 30, 2018

Last time it rained I heard a sound—

A sound you don’t want to hear—

A drip drip dripping inside the house—

A leak in the ceiling, oh dear.

So up to the attic I hoisted myself

And next to the whirly thing,

There on the boards inside the roof,

A damply ominous ring.

Roofer came quick, he diagnosed,

A ‘lifted nail’ declared,

But roof still wet so he’d have to wait;

His neck he could not spare.

Some days went by.

And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of six tiny hooves.

Only it was three medium-size men.

And guess what they found?

A bullet hole!

I guess the bullet might still be there—

I’d kind of like to see it.

But to sift through the attic in Texas in June

I just do not foresee it.