William Butler Yeats in jeans 
Got up to play guitar and sing 
In some join in Mission Beach last night 
At the door sat Tom Waits 
In a pork pie hat and silver skates 
Jugglin' three collection plates Jesus Christ 

Townes Van Zandt standin' at the bar 
Skinnin' a Hollywood movie star 
Can't remember where he parked his car 
Or to whom he lost the keys 
Full of angst and hillbilly haiku 
What's a poor Ft. Worth boy to do 
Go on rhyme somethin' for em' man 
Show him how you really feel 

[Chorus:]
Ain't no money in poetry 
That's what sets the poet free 
I've had all the freedom I can stand 
Cold dog soup and rainbow pie 
Is all it takes to get me by 
Fool my belly till the day I die 
Cold dog soup and rainbow pie 

Ginsberg and Kerouac 
Shootin' dice and playin' Ramblin' Jack's guitar 
With the cowboy paintin' pickguard on it 
And they sat in the back and drank for free 
And rhymed orange with Rosalie 
Now there's a pride of lions to draw to

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