Your body went black with the bitters drained,
Satin got strapped to a wooden base,
hammer heads clap for a liquid lace,
baterry brat and a wicked fade,
but if the ladle gets licked
then the suspects headed for hell to pay.
Scissor cut slacks and a broken vase,
a little high fashion and summer stakes,
hanging my hat, where the stumbles stray,
lift a gate latch and you are giving way,
but in fifty one fish,
there is a full shot stiff of the everglades.