Bad Burner, aged seventy three, leaps on stage
in puce pink jump suit, louche indigo bandanna,
glitter green boots, banana shaped guitar. He calls it 'The Rammer,'
spits staccato blues riffs while swigging tequila, spliff burns a hole
in his plastic amp cover. Don't use the word camp
to describe his gyrations,he's macho, moustachioed,
with balls tough as a rhino. "Welcome to me lovers." he cries
into the stalls - an iron permed maiden falls over and dies
"I am the history, mystery, majestic master of rock and roll
A mean drilling machine......... y'all green with envy?
I bend my Fender while others pretend."
Monika Moonthighs, his big assed , melon - breasted
female on vocals, high on a toke, bangs tambourine,
and massive maraccas , tamed every bitchin' R and R
vocal man from Manchester to Maine, the crowd goes insane
as those come suck me, cocky notes warble in her throat,
her boogie woogie is moody blue; her notes taut as birdsong
on a prairie wire and yessir, her country style is sweet Loretta.
She's filing her nails as she sails through
a bad ass blue grass tune as Bad Burner yells
"Go get 'er," in the heat of the night,
"I am the inventor of rock an' roll,
the king, the bling and the sweet soul daddy."
The audience gives a last mighty roar.