Who you think you talkin' to like that, boy? Some alkie... <br />Or riffraff? <br />You sure cain't be talkin' to a bonafide New Orleans <br />Resident like me like that. No sir. Not to me. <br />I'm the onliest one wurth sumthin' on this whole block... <br />Maybe two blocks. <br />'Cause I got what them filthy drunks over there ain't... <br />I got city breedin', boy. That's importunt. <br />I happen to be the vulnerable connosure of the <br />Inexpensive and economicul varities of the liquid <br />Nectur of the grape. <br />I got digifide discermint, boy...I spend whole minutes <br />Perusin' wine shelves until I espy what my palit will <br />Find to its satusfacshun. <br />Why, them dirty drunks come to me just for advice on <br />Price. <br />Now, that's a moot point. Some wine is deelectuble at a dollar <br />A fifth...some at six bits a pint. But, the best <br />Is around eighty cints a quart. <br />Thrift, boy, always 'member thrift. <br />That's exakly how I've come to be such a well-known <br />Success in my chosen occupashun... <br />Block advisur, boy, <br />Block advisur.<br /><br />elysabeth faslund<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-got-city-breedin-boy-humor/
