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Haiti
by Daniel Irwin
Ahhh...Haiti...
Where the voodoo ladies come out late at night
To weave their magic spell.
I must admit that I delight
In the tails I hear they tell.
I headed for the Haitian coast,
While my friends went to Cozumel.
They said I must be outta my mind.
Naw, this vacation will be swell.
Arrival at Port au Prince,
Eager this land to see.
What the heck happened to my luggage?
I'm missin' bags one, two, and three.
The smiling taxi driver
Recommended a fine hotel.
He said the food was au francais,
And the zombies do not smell.
An evening stroll through the market,
Everyone had something to sell.
"No, ma'm, I don't need a potion,
And my stuff still works quite well."
A mysterious young lady
Led me off the beaten path.
She said, "Come with me, monsieur"
With a giggle and a laugh.
She took me to her father.
He said, "This is a sacred place.
Please, bite the head off this chicken,
And smear cow dung on your face."
Bite the head off a chicken?
That's easy with a bottle of rum.
But, drunk as I may have been,
I still passed on that cow dung.
He pulled out a little dolly.
"Hey, that thing looks like me."
He started jabbin' pins in it.
"Ow, my back! Mt nose! My knee!"
Came time for the sacrifice.
"Hot damn, this'll be a good show!"
But, the object of their attention
Was yous truly, don't you know.
Well, they stripped me butt-ass naked
And painted me red from head to toe.
When they started talkin' 'bout cuttin' somethin' off,
I knew it was time to go.
I ran out through the jungle.
'Had to get my ass back home.
If I ever reach my livin' room,
Never more will I roam.
And the voodoo ladies come out late at night
To weave their magic spell.
I must admit my friends were right.
This vacation's straight from Hell!
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© Irwin, 2006
Daniel Irwin is an artist/writer who works as a medic at a maximum security prison... " 'cause I don't make no money as an artist/writer. I've had a few things published...but not enough to escape the prison...gotta keep that day-job...even if it's at night."