You Would

Dude shuffles into your waiting room.

He’s hurting. Hurt bad.

You’d say, sir, take a number…

Ain’t ya heard we’re shorta staff?!

Lady says – this mistake’s yours.

‘Nen you get down on cloven hoved fours,

And CHARGE BITCH! you say,

Mistake? Ya made a big one!

Now you get some come up ants

And doesn’t ya let me catcha

Playin’ it’s right back atcha.

It ain’t, but if it ever was shit.

You’d bite your tongue the smallest bit.

And maybe eat a few of your words.