Article voiceover
I make the song of Brother Earth, and Sister Sea And Mother Wind and Father Smid, Who went to town last evening With eleven things to say. His brother kept him steady With every solitary step And his mother got him ready, Kissing farmer’s grasses Growing pumpernickel bread. His sister was partially responsible for the irrigation. In any who (or case) he Got to town by sprinting and So beat himself in a friendly race, Stood panting there and squinting With the opposite of a frown On his gruffy Father’s face, Before he cracked his back and (wincing) spoke with tact and A sort… or kind of grace: “Oh! I’ll be dead as a log in December at this fucking rate!” He lifted his knees, and after Shaking his feet, sauntered into The tavern and his usual seat. He furrowed his nose and he Chewed on his teeth, and For the fourth and a half time that week, Father Smid smelled the mahogany Seat, (but also the mead) And it made him say, “Sweet!” Earning a scowl from His ex-wife, half-son (but not by her) And a traveling clown in the corner. But Smid so loved mead that He smiled at all three and said With soft glee, “Nothing pleases father Smid Like the sultry smell of average mead!” He got up to leave, having Paid no expense, for just seeing Mead had his thristfulness quenched. He walked out the door, Paid no heed to the morrow And dragged his brown boots Up the steps of a store owner (’s house) He puffed up his chest and he opened his mouth (paused for effect) And Smid said a speech that shut up the whole town (at least till he got down, while watching them frown, eleven talking points later). He went back to his house With half the respect He had had when he left But what can you expect? He sat down in his bed And he patted his pet And he frowned at the vet Who he owed lots of debts And stood next to his desk. Smid said, “Brett, brother Brett, I’ll give you each last penny (right now) If you sit your ass down And listen to eleven thoughts That years from now Will earn me clout On heaven’s second Biggest cloud.” The vet said “fine” And Smid said the words Of the following lines:** **due to the fact that all eleven of Smid’s ideas contain misleading information, they have been redacted The vet asked for his money And Smid said, “...well it’s funny”. So after a seething police call The cops found him running without Shoes on his feet, food in his tummy Or respect for the beliefs of the Two thousand twenties. They took him to jail And his cellmate (named Nail) Listened to Smid talk And threw up in a pale. Nail took him to the feed lot Where the guards turned a blind eye And he beat father Smid up Until the old bugger died. Smid’s soul went to reap gold Joyousness In the fields where heaven’s own Purgatory is. He smiled boldly in the face of all Dreariness And God noticed, so he put Smid on Peter’s list. (the stairway to heaven was broken but there was a hot air balloon he could take). Up at the gates, Peter said, “great! You passed all our tests And your virgins await!” But Smid said, “wait, Peter, wait! I’ve got eleven things on my plate! My fate doesn’t crave your third-rate Salvation (that mess of a home), I just want these hot takes off my chest, Don’t ya know?” Peter furrowed his brows, And Smid said the eleven things (rather loud) But Peter fell asleep on his Heavenly cloud. So, everyone has to go to hell Until he wakes up.