Song Of The Midnight Hustler

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Rowdy Living Press
Living life on the edge.

Submitted: February 09, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: February 09, 2017




Well I am just another lonely hustler

Down an only back alley street,

Might could have been a doctor,

But I sure am hard to beat.


Its another bright light street,

Where the harlots abound,

Not a good place for the weak,

Yet one where golden opportunity may still be found.


Another dirty deal o’er by the billiard table,

Smoke hanging thickly in the air,

Got to move like lightening when you are able,

Chancing all on a single dare.


Well there lies gold inside the trunk,

And a silver screen courtesan in the back seat;

There’s a chain mailed corpse neath the Big River Jaunt;

But that’s what happens when one forgets and lets his tongue speak.


Traveled a thousand miles just lookin for a pot of gold,

Guess that I will be moving from sundown to daylight

Until the day comes that I am grey and old.

You know  there are more riches found at midnight,

When cash trade is made and sold.


Well it’s another dismal state,

Just another empty hug,

Another empty plate,

Another empty jug…


And I just feel so lonely,

So lonely that I could die,

Giving meaning to the word “only”,

I might just hang my head and cry.


Think that I’ll just roll on,

On down the interstate;

The next deal calls on the telephone,

And I dare not be late.

© Copyright 2018 H.L. Dowless. All rights reserved.