Four O'Clocker 2 - Thinking Fellers Union Local 282

Making love with a bucket and a spatula

Spreading butter on the ground

Crossing the sands in a jaunty crew full of mismatched hands

The high hump of the camel gives a tasty view of your lumpy countenance

Your coat is flapping off your yak

You got my goat with a sheepskin sack

Last night I climbed up the back of a fat woman in a sweaty print dress

And tonight I’m lying with the snout and I cry for her

And she said, «Maybe for a dollar.»

She’d made up her mind to make herself mind

Because she was drunk and drunker and drunk

She soiled my sheets and stepped on my feet

Bled on my towels and opened her bowels beneath my pillow

Where my head should rest to escape the rest

She said she needed some rest

She said she was too tired for love

She said, «Special place, I know you’re here

I want to find you and whack you and forget you for good.»

She said, «Somewhere, but not here…

Maybe at four o’clock or two.

Four o’clock or two.»