Throw a bone to me, George, I'm the merchant who sold you a chili dog
As you watched Aggies lose to the Huskers that fall in the chilly fog
And my daddy said your daddy took you as a child watch him kill the hog
that ended up in your buns
as you sat, Dad and son,
hating everyone wearing those Go Big Red buttons.

Give it up for me, George, haven't you always needed old folk about?
To tell you to chill and slap your hand if your drink too much and joke about?
To tell you when to talk tough, furrow brows, tell the bandit you'll "smoke him out"?
to dole the chips out to the line?
remind you "Pearls Before Swine"?
to wear you rings when their hands are on the big red buttons?

Toss a coin to me, George, from your huge swing set covered in satin
Tell me how you hide pork in a barrel in your precious Pig Latin
Let me play with your tanks as you suit up to look just like Patton
and I'll speak like a jerk
to learn how you do work
til I sit on your swing like a big Red Buttons

Autumn 02

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