Free Lunch

Smackin dust from hat'n boots just 'nside the cafe door,

I stomps to th'counter with m'dime, coffee wages 'n nothin more.

Sits m'self at the sleeve o' a Meskin - a poco boracho so he seems.

Waitress brings m'cup - still there he sits, astarin at his beans.

A day ago I filled m'gut, 'n that were just some jerky chili.

While I eyes that heapin bowl, in my mind'er thoughts: "Danged silly,

"Silly!" them thoughts protest, "a drunken Meskin awasting food galore."

So speaks them thoughts, and says to him, "Might I finish that, Seenyor?"

Without even alookin up, he shakes his head and says to me,

"Help jorself," and slides the grub - so now I has a meal fer free.

As beans is filling up m'carcass, pure sweetness's fillin up my heart,

"Them Spics ain't all so bad!" I thinks (that 'n, "Pintas makes me fart").

Then I spies the mouse's head, eyein' me atop m'spoon.

'N sudden comes the backerds flow, awhence to bowl it left so soon.

Leanin close, my compadre speaks some words well worthy of a chew,

"How'ju like jor lunch gratis? 'S'bout as far as I got, too."