Jack the Cap Captain
Spirit of Captain Jack hovering over me,
captain of the bottle caps brigade is he.
He twists the frigg’n cap to the right
when left I try to twist’n fight.
A whammy is what he sent to me on call
or a voodoo pin from his voodoo doll.
He tightens the caps so nobody can drink.
He’s up to his shenanigans so I think.
Is he a nice spirit or a not so nice one?
Was he born in the womb or a mausoleum?
Maybe his mother came from the Isle of Hades
and he emerged from the coals all ablaze.
Was it his idea to tighten the bottle caps,
or did it come from a herd of evil cats?
Doesn’t he want us to taste his brew,
to turn his cap leftward to unscrew?
Maybe he’s captain of a Tighten up Contest
and I’m a contestant in complete distress.
He turns to the right when I want to go left.
OK. I give up. I did my best.
He’s the cap captain of the cap brigade,
the nasty guru above the cavalcade,
too much for me to battle with,
so, I guess I’ll just go thirsty therewith.
To hell with him.
But maybe he was there when it all began.
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