Coffee Cans

from by The Fights



I’d be off this salt ranch
if it weren’t for my two sticky hands,
scratching like a chicken
for them backyard coffee cans.

Papa, he never trusted suits
so what he left he buried beneath the roots.
Folgers tins all filled with loot,
with a spade,
I get paid.

Every time that I get an itch
for a drop of drink
or a cigarette,
I’m like a water witch with my dowsing stick,
a whistle pig getting rich
down in them tunnels
full of gold.

Years they pass,
I got nothing to show.
Crops don’t grow in a yard full of holes.
Just beer guts,
yellow teeth,
and dissatisfied souls.

Every night when I try to dream
my thoughts always turn
to that caffeine
It drove the old man to work the land,
day after day using his hands
to refill them coffee cans.


from Bramble Patch Blues, released October 14, 2016



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The Fights Urbana, Illinois

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