MY WARM SLEEPING BAG




Oh! Sleeping on the cold ground is my thing;
To me it is a real live happening!
My body's frozen but my spirits sing:
"My sleeping bag is neat and nice
And nearly half as warm as ice.
The Ticks are biting me like mice.
The stream of warmth that through me flows
      Is springing from my sun-burned nose."

Oh! Sleeping on the cold ground is my bag;
To sleep on springs or mattress is a drag.
Let others sleep at home at ease;
I love sleeping with the trees;
For lying on the cold ground is my bag.

OH! Sleeping on the cold ground is my thing;
To me it is a real life happening!
My body's frozen, but my spirits sing:
"My sleeping bag is snugly fit
And icy where I contact it.
I'm full of joy I would not swop;
I'm freezing near the mountain top;
Awake with birds that will not stop.
I hope they don't, for if they do,
I'll fear that I have likewise too."

Oh! Sleeping on the cold ground is my bag;
To sleep at home in comfort is a drag.
I like to feel the sticks and stones,
The hard earth pressing on my bones,
For sleeping on the cold ground is my bag,
And warmly lying softly IS my bag--
It's --1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, WARM!
I'm -- 91, 92, 93, 97, 99, FREEZING!




from THE KING'S BARN Copyright © l988, 1997 Rednisme, Pre-Cambrian Poet 1