still revisiting old friends during this week of reminiscence. and it seems that susie's not the only one attracted to the deep pockets of the catholic boys. there's also . . .

billy-ray

billy-ray tells tawdry tales to my neighbor lads, those deft and dillied
gawkers, out foolishing in my yard, and takes the pennies from my
bedroom floor, slips my nickels into his shoes, finding luck where
he can find it

but he saves his silly kisses for the dawn, and doesn't hear my
whispry tales, steals his place up in my window, where he can
listen to the pixie songs, maybe sell some charms to the catholic boys,
he is a crafy lad

and loose with favors, or did i lose my billy-ray, south of cincinnati,
chasing hop-toads through the grass, or did his loopy smiling leave
me sorrow-full, driving those old backroads, dusting round his daddy's
pawpaw trees, or did we

take our fancy down to bourbon street, make a monday dawdle
for the tourists, and they might have chased us with their rum and
coca-cola, chased us to the levee where the oak trees hide the light,
and where is he laughing now

my sweet ole billy-ray