Monday, November 23, 2009

the Boss.

(written one day purely on a lark)

We all call him The Boss at end of day,
This Jersey-born rock singer from the shore--
He walks the road of fame in his own way.

Though why we call him Boss, no one can say,
But that shall be his name forevermore.
We'll all call him the Boss at end of day.

When he plays his guitar, we shout "hooray"--
after all these long years, he does not bore.
He walks the road of fame in his own way.

It sounds like booing when we shout his name,
But it is love that fuels our cheers galore--
We all still call him Boss at end of day.

For he was born to run; he walks away
From triteness to sing songs about the poor.
He walks the road of fame in his own way.

Bruce Springsteen, Jersey poet, going grey,
But long shall be his reputation sure.
We all call him the Boss at end of day.
He walks the road of fame in his own way.

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