And Big Tex's house
Not a dweller was cognizant
Of the milves in and out
Til one day in November
Twas a calm show of power
But by a surprised and very tired
Panamanian and Sig Sauer
Then by what should my wandering eyes should appear?
But a screaming Big Tex bleeding from his head and his rear
And to the warm lap of comfort, to his Amazonian bride
Rolled Tex one more splif, who took a drag and then died
On Bigly, on Baja
On Big Montana, On Pierre
On Cheese Bags, On Roomba
On Pineapple, our dear
Twas the attic for Christmas
T'where Big Tex is enshrined
Mummified and ensconced in the tears
of all his haters online
this is the awkward time of year when the family whose attic i live in, unbeknownst to them, come upstairs and disturb my wreath nest
