Sitting here, near Orlando,
outside my motorhome.
The time is late, TV sucks,
so I pour another Chardonnay.
Disney’s fireworks are quiet now,
My fellow campers have gone inside.
Even the damned bugs are too lazy to bite,
An old song popped into my head
And it just won’t go away.
So, I changed a few words, and it sounds so good
I think so I’ll share it with my 9-to-5 kids one day.
Your Papa is a Rolling Stone,
Wherever I lay my hat,
Is my home.
And when I die!
All I’ll probably leave you,
Sometimes …… I just crack myself up!
Copyright, Don Bobbitt, 2015, All Rights Reserved. You are free to read and enjoy this article and share it with friends. But, if you wish to use it commercially, then you must have the author’s permission, in writing.
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