The Monday After Boom Days
Read to the rhythm of “T’was the Night Before Christmas.”
T’was the Monday after Boom Days when all through the ‘Ville
Not a person was stirring, the streets were all still.
My fishnets were flung over the big easy chair
My feet were all blistered, feathers still in my hair.
The children slept in from a sugary crash.
They’d spend every dime of mom and dad’s cash.
The gals wore their boas, the gents wore their hats
When out on the Avenue there arose such a clatter.
But it was the Monday after Boom Days, and it just didn’t matter!
I was tired, I was beat, who’s making such ado?
I needed more sleep, an extra hour or two.
It had been a long weekend, so much going down.
It can be so exhausting, for the small mountain town.
A stroll down the Avenue, which usually takes 10
Turns into 2 hours, as I ran into old friends.
But when Boom Days was over, I took to my bed.
With the sounds of Dave Ten Eyck ringing in my head:
“Now bidder, now bidder, yes, bidder it’s you.
On Smokey! On Sweetpea! Don’t give me no sass!
On Buttercup and Banjo! Git your ass up the pass!
To the top of Mosquito! To the top of Mount Ball!
Now, race away! Race away! Race away all!
And off at The Elks, the ring of the drill,
Thrilled the crowds for hours, and sent a big chill.
The hammer how it shimmered, his grip oh so tight.
He mucked and hand-steeled with all of this might.
The parade on Saturday was truly most dandy.
The kids were all happy with their pockets of candy.
The burros, the band, the floats, and much more!
There was so much to see, and people galore!
The contests seemed endless, as the crowds gathered round.
They ate pies, tossed eggs, until winners were found.
Folks all dressed up, cheeks red and all rosy,
My eyes how they twinkled, my mood was content, as I listened to music at the Lions’ Skala Beer Tent.
And when I was hungry, or had a sweet tooth.
I wandered my way, walking booth after booth.
When at last, I had visited each and every row.
I headed up to 6th Street to the Rod and Gun Show.
The Motorcycle Events on Friday were great
Like year after year, I just couldn’t wait.
“Drop Your Balls” “Bite the Weenie” were truly a lark,
But the party really got started, once it was dark
The bars were all full.
The music played on.
And I dance and I danced,
Til pancake breakfast at dawn.
I’m tired; I’m spent!
My heads in a haze.
You must understand,
It’s the Monday after Boom Days!
So I’ll finished this poem.
I’ve told you my plight.
Happy Boom Days to all
And to all a hey-be-quiet, turn off-that-light Good Night!