The parachute packers
of world war two,
were 99 and a half percent
accurate in their packing too.
If my father was a
parachute packer I'd be dead,
I got zero percent from him instead.

If my oldest brother was a
parachute packer I'd never jump,
probably hit the ground hard thump.
If my family were parachute packers,
I'd definitely need
God and the angels for backers.
If my wife packed parachutes,
I'd be shaking in my boots.
If my wifes family joined the group,
I'd resign from the paratroop.

Even if  they tried to
get me packing chutes,
I'd jump in my running boots.
If they tried to make me test one I did,
I'd be afraid I'd end up dead.
I never got a hundred percent
for nothing,
more or less about 30 percent
of something.
And the way the future rings up
I'll be lucky to get zero percent of anything.
I pay this den my own money,
my returns would make a
clown funny.

I know,
may pains showing,
but it's facing the mirror
that keeps me going.
It's hard to keep
a good man down,
especially when
he's already looking up from the ground.
The only thing that can
stop my win,
is if a paratrooper falls in.
Followed by his crashing plane,
splattering me to a
blood stain.

O