American Holler

Bloody cowbells leave me be.
“Surrender now or follow me!”
Parched throats holler,
“Come on down! Let us show your soul around!”
Pardon, mister, whatcha say?
‘Spirits swallowed every day?’
Why such saccharine in the voice,
When presented with such choice?
“Chop, chop, sweetie, make some plans.
Shout out now, to all who stands!”
Reflective thought? That’s not here.
Just sit back and have a beer.

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