A Gun for Ringo

A Gun For Ringo

Such a beautiful song by Ennio Morricone, but does it belong in a poem / a story about someone so wonderful as our own Ringo Kady. Without a doubt a roustabout who I know is going to freak-out when she finds out about this shout out, and I will be looking out for someplace to hideout so lookout, for I could be in route, even though I am worn-out and no I am not a dropout and I do hope you will checkout, maybe even stakeout all I have to say about this trout of a girl. One that swims with the big fish, sometimes acting a little British, but never like a catfish or a blowfish, but maybe a bit danish, cause she is as cute as apple pie in a dish, just don't call her girlish, but hawkish is cool. I wonder if she likes liquorice.

So Ringo Kady never being shady and her guitar named sally, who was a little quacky, were on a little journey singing to the cows that were a bit lanky. Lets not forget Lassie lastly being a shaggy not shabby she doggie that was a little smarty and loved being smoochy with a sloppy slushy tongue.

So on this sleepy sloshy slushy slightly slippery slinky smoggy rainy night, while singing to the pretty puffy pudgy purely queenly reefy beefy cows of the prairie, they decided to stop and have some pumpkin pie quickly, which was rarely really risky. Except this foggy frosty ghostly giggly gauntly giddy night. For when they stopped and dropped you could tell they plopped like they were airdropped from a propped plane in the rain on the plain once again, there it was.

To be continued .......... Someday .... maybe ..... we'll see