Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Them Goodbye All right then What say we do away With all that Stuff about losing it or killing it Or calling it romance And no more Caterwauling about God or the Icosahedron where we drank and danced in Muskegon, No more songs to our old saddle pals The women we loved or didn't love enough The children we gave up to the knife The cats and dogs and Vietnamese Pot- bellied Pigs we've carried over the Great Divide The barracks And howling orphans at Midnapore, or anything That has funny words in it Like Rutabaga Philip Morris Garde Du Corps No more harangues against marriage, against divorce, About greed or acid rain or getting fucked or forgot, you know What I mean All that preaching about this and that giving tit for tat Telling us where it's not Or where it's at, no more Essays concerning hands or feet or bums getting Holy in the streets, Christ, no, let's just shuck it all, make it Against the law Turn the damn things into kindling or little what- Nots with bubbles of shellac, and when The Peacemakers and the Pure In Heart and all the rest of them ask us what We will leave behind, what then? We will break open our rucksacks and bring out the goods, Only bread, brother Only salt Only the charred bouquet of our red red wine James Lineberger |