Swingin' Holy Guy

While Jorge was having gazpacho
A name came, and he thought "I gotcha!"
Told cardinals with glee
"It's blue eyes for me.
I'll name myself after Sinatra."

Fava Beans

(to "All of Me")

Fava beans
Come taste my fava beans
Lovely green
They're no good without you

Heart it skips
I long to taste them
Fresh from farm
I love to serve them

Come nearby
Spoon some and mouth will cry
You will die
For a bowl, a chew coup

Few things'll top
Your heart, it will stop
For my pot
My lot, my fava beans

Long to feed
Succulent fava beans
Care to drink
Chianti with new food?

Past your lips
Red wine and bean blend
What's the harm?
Warm pair will transcend.

My, oh, my
Methinks I’m one thing shy
Lucky guy
Dinner role invites you

I need the part
Your liv-er, not heart
So don’t balk
Knife might make subtle sting.

Tuck Is The Lady Tonight

(to Luck Be A Lady)

They call him Friar Tuck
Straight arrow, you'd say stout
Tonight he has this very unsav’ry like way
Of coming out

Those inhibitions freed
Making woodsman blush
They hoot and holler evenings
Says Friar,
“Look boys, just don’t touch.”

This night he really matters
He’s waited since Tuesday
He pads his best, and goes out on display

Tuck is the lady, tonight.
Tuck is the lady, that’s right.
Tuck’s legs are hairy and he’s dressed to nines with sequins
Tuck is the lady, all right!

Tuck’s heart is longing to sing
Sam’s standard “Gotta be me.”
Now is the day he’s happy showing off his midriff
Tuck, he’s a lady, no tease

This friar used to dance in court
For Sherriff fair
It wasn’t nice
This friar always wondered, to this life he’s doomed
Indulge mister Naughtyham’s vice.

His future, I’d say, is bright
Plunder all day, then at night
The men get merry, once a week our guy dons lipstick
Tuck, is their lady, you see

Tuck thinks that Robin Hood’s keen
Cute in tights and sheen shiny green
The maid’s an older guy who’s living south of Pickwick
Tuck, thinks she’s needy and cheap

The maiden mistreating her old beau
Her icy stair
It isn’t nice
Seems Robin aims for targets, who over him, swoon
He’s cheated with that Little John twice

Deep in the dark woods at night
The middle-aged men take flight
You’d swear that maybe, there’s a guy in drag well equipped
Tuck be that lady, tonight

Tuck is that lady
Tuck is that lady
Tuck is that lady…tonight!

Copyright 2010 Warren Baker

That Show On Tuesday- Tribute to Lost

(to Frank Sinatra's My Way)

And now,
The smoke has cleared
The mystic place,
Locale uncertain
It’s lost
Then reappears
At time they chase
Its inner workin’s

The sea
A moon that’s full
They walk the beach
And sometimes sideways
Now bored,
Oh how I’ll miss
That show on Tuesday.

To Jack,
I say adieu
The hands that mend
And fight infection
And to Locke
I’ll miss him too
He changed his mood
Through resurrection

For Jin
And Sun, of course
My eyes got wet
An Asian bouquet
My heart,
My heart will miss
That show on Tuesday.

Yes, I saw times
That Sawyer stewed
Could he have Kate
And Julie too?
The Hurley curls
(He's somewhat stout)
Heed Jacob's call
"Don’t let him out!”
The island squalls
An hour enthralls
That show on Tuesday.

Sayid
And Claire were fried
Their minds and wills
Were not their choosing
And how
Whitmore had tried
His methods all
So confusing

And Ben
That little rat
He lost his way
Then took the high way
That show
Was good to me
Until last Sunday.

I understand.
No, not the plot
A plane had crashed
Yes, that I got.
The ending brings
A gray reveal
Just what occurred?
I sense surreal
Who cares, who knows?
I loved the show
Got Lost on Tuesdays.

Copyright 2010 Warren Baker

Lost Logo Copyright ABC

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