Come listen to my story ‘bout 3 men named ED,

Poor mountain men barely each stayed fed,

One was out shootin’ for food, when up through the ground,

Came some bubblin’ rude, beer that is, Coors gold,

Edvard’s tee…

The first thing ya know the ED’s were livin’ on a cloud,

Yep they was really rich, livin’ high in the air,

Their kinfolk said, ED’s move away from there,

So they loaded up the Exploder and headed west,

Southern California is the place that is totally best…

Had to put up with earthquakes & slides,

Wild fires and wind storms & the Pacific where it with the land collides,

The people were all strung out on some kind of drug,

Kept them happy though but a lot of them for some reason lied,

They said the ED’s would be happy they were for awhile,

But Jersey Ed missed his barrens & soon left with a smile…

So left was the two ED’s though Pee-Wee missed his northern woods,

Saying Southern Cal had way too many hoods,

And left Edvard in the lurch, drinking the profits from the Coors,

Sooner than one could say his name, the hoods took over,

As Edvard left open in their mansion all the doors,

Forcing Edvard out on the street and home to his Scandinavian country he went too…

If there is a moral to this story it would be,

Don’t drink your beer from where you pee,

That is to life, what we think, is the key…

© ed - 3/2/10