They called him Sweet Willie
He hailed from South Philly
His looks were as sharp as a stiletto knife
He rode the streets and lived the high life
His ride was a Sting Ray silver and sleek
All the young ladies, inside wanted to peek
The machine’s clear coat looked like a million
On the hood was painted a prancing Stallion
He speaks with a sharp wit and tells his story
He leans and gestures weaving a tale of glory
He was born poorer than soil in the junkyard
He tells of a mother who always worked much too hard
He tells about the struggles to become a man
Of no father to lend him a hand
The frustration of schools with no understanding
The street wars over turf, so demanding
About hanging on street corners just killing time
Of a youthful life style of petty crime
A listing of schemes, that always failed
Then a brief residency in an upstate county jail
He was out there once robbing a man’s truck
He had sunk that low to make a buck
He was caught with his hands on the wheel
But the owner offered to make him a deal
The old owner called him a wayward youth
“You need to be shown the path of truth”
“You also have a mechanical knack”
“Now, get out of here, and in the morning come back”
Willie’s release left him dumbfounded, surely
Willie showed up in the morning bright and early
The old man took him to an old warehouse
It was very shabby unfit for a mouse
He slid open a massive wooden door
Revealing a dusty concrete floor
There were creates and boxes, cobwebs and dust
Car parts and motors covered with rust
“From here you’ll find, a living can be made”
“If you are interested, I’ll teach you my trade”
“I warn you Willie, nothing good comes easy”
“Now clean this place up, get yourself busy”
Willie looked deep into the old mans face
Around his eyes wrinkles deeply traced
At first, Willie was indignant, angry and disgusted
A work detail, cleaning up, for getting busted
As he labored the old man softly spoke
He remembered when car wheels had wooden spokes
He told of the Model A’s and then the T’s
After the war nobody wanted any of these
All the young men wanted modern steel
With long hoods and fins and shinning wheels
With
V-8’s, overhead valves, and automatic transmissions
But he was more inclined to the European traditions
He liked sports cars, two seaters with styling
MG’s and Triumphs and Healeys, got him smiling
His favorite was the Ferrari, the prancing Horse
Expressing, the spirit of the man who built them, of course
Now, Willie came back day after day
He took to liking the old man, in a way
He was clever and could spin a great story
Wonderful tales of character and glory
He was amazed at the people the old man admired
Of hearing those stories he never tired
Willie was taught principals and every automotive part
He was absorbing it and taking it to heart
He learned tune-ups, oil changes and lubes
He was instructed in welding and forming of steel tubes
He started earning some money, but not a whole lot
He was in business; the old man had given him a shot
Willie worked hard and followed the old man’s advice
"Treat your customers with respect and a fair price"
This business took off like a skyrocket
Soon he had money stuffed in every pocket
Willie returned to the shop very late each night
Building a sports car, in a corner out of sight
He owed the mentor his life and esteem
He was making, for him, a magnificent machine
He worried for weeks over the painting on the hood
He just hoped his adopted father would think it was good
He dreamed of the old man behind the wheel for a ride
The old man bestowed Willie his talents and essence of pride
But before Willie could give him this Silver Sting Ray
The old man had a an illness and passed away
Willie will let no one sit in, or get near it
Because in this Glass Horse rides the old man’s spirit
By George J. Kimble
She has raven hair and eyes dark as coal
She has a sensuality that moves a man’s soul
Angelina is her name and that fits her just so
She is an earthy expression with a celestial glow
She murmurs an enchanting melody as she works
Slowly swaying to the sounds as coffee perks
Her café customers enjoy the lilting tune
Secretly, she hopes Willie will come in soon
Willie is her customer for coffee everyday
He owns the auto shop across the way
He makes her feel like an innocent child
His looks and manners stimulate something wild
In this forgotten nook of the city, he is fresh air
Each night as he leaves, she enters a trance like stare
Through her shop window, as she pulls the blinds
Fantasies, of rides in his Corvette, possess her mind
She has heard Willie’s story of course
All about the Old Man and the prancing horse
She imagines, Willie and her, in that silver machine, top laid low
Cruising the warm evening tenderly slow
As if real, she taste the warm night air
City lights glistening in his jet-black hair
His strong hands caress the Corvette’s wheel
She envies that object’s feel
Masculinity in his arms and chest are defined
The rumble of the engine is so sublime
Uncontrollable impulses of jealousy towards the leather seat
Holding his body and feeling it’s heat
Tiny tremors of delight imperceptible
Over take her body in the accelerating convertible
Primal urges straining to be understood
Like that stallion on the Corvette’s hood
Her cheeks acquire a hue of rose
As if buffeted by the wind as it blows
Rushes of grand proportion keep building and building
Every night she has this dream so thrilling
So, thinly veiled, her emotion and desire
It is like the engine’s internal fire
Everyone knows it is the source of the Corvette’s power
Everyone knows she dreams of Willie hour by hour
This man and his Corvette are more than meets the eye
This woman and her emotions descriptions defy
Her
secret fantasies she cannot give away
So, she lets on he is just a customer by light of day
By George J. Kimble
Outside the City limits the Roadhouse hung
Large gravel parking lot, Choppers and rods disorderly strung
Front porch with crates and empty kegs for stools
Occupied by tattooed, leathered variants of the gene pool
Now, ordinary citizens pass by here night after night
Probably making comments about this terrible blight
Discussing how something ought to be done
And that they've heard these people carry guns
Loud music blasting from behind neon beer signs
Even louder voices and laughter blurt out from time to time
Raven haired woman leans against a pillar and sings
Mouthing words in sync with music by Sting
A man with five o'clock shadow and sleeveless T-shirt
Wraps his arm around the waist of her mini-skirt
She shrugs and pushes him away
It's crystally apparent she doesn't want to play
Thin crescent sliver of a moon
Gives no luminance to the hot August gloom
Then gravel crackles and pops
A silver Corvette wheels in and stops
A lone male rider with long black hair
Hops over the closed convertible door and inhales the night air
It's a Corvette, wax and polish heavily applied
There are splatters and splashes of mud on either side
Two arches of dirt cover the windshield
It's no tractor, but it has been in the field
A sense of uneasiness among the roadhouse group
This Corvette driver is not one of the Roadhouse troop
He walks with a swagger and disconcerting sway
The singer stares at him but her Playboy pulls her away
Playboy curls his lip in a defiant sneer
Everyone else side steps as the Vette driver walks near
At the passage into the bar room
He smells stale beer and cheap perfume
The jukebox stops with a clunk
Unplugged by a clowning drunk
The joint is silent as he approaches the bar
The barkeeper's face has a hideous scar
He hears a scream from behind his back
Playboy has given the singer a smack
Suddenly, that chick bolts through the door
Pursued by Playboy and slammed to the floor
The commotion rouses the patrons to cheers
Her face is bleeding and she is shedding tears
The Vette driver grabs her hand
He pulls her to his side and takes a stand
Silence fills the room, like fog on the moor
Playboy screams, "Get out of my way, I'm going to kill the whore"
Vette driver looks like the entrée in a wolf pack's meal
He knows the danger and he knows it's real
He stands pat, with no bluff in his eye
He whispers, "That's something you don't want to try"
There is a glint of steel, cold and blue
A flurry of bodies in motion ensues
A snarl, a scream, and a deafening thud
Playboy's body on the floor oozing blood
It happened so quick the crowd is dismayed
Some one yells, "Hey, Don't let them get away"
The girl and her hero fly towards the street
Then leap the doors into the Corvette seats
The starter engages and the engine roars
Tires spit gravel, onto the highway the Corvette soars
Bikers and Rodders run to their steeds
Abandoning Playboy on the floor to just bleed
Into the darkness they chased the Corvette
They never caught him, that's a sure bet
That night a duet was forged from considerable strife
I heard last week, Angelina and Willie may soon be husband and wife
By George J. Kimble
You know they slipped away
To love and exist another day
But in the distance a rumbling sound
An omen as their Corvette rolls out of town
Like thunder beyond the horizon's view
A menacing hint of the impending havoc due
Spats of light pierce the windshield's glare
Jagged glints fill the mid night's air
Silhouettes of darting figures fill the mirror's sight
Marauders from hell, on iron steeds, corrupt the night
Leather clad and chromium draped, smoldering beast
A Horde, descending upon innocent prey, to feast
The riders in motion lean and sway
Headlights swirling across the passageway
Circling, road pirates, wailing epithets licentious
Closing in on the Corvette, with anger from the dark abyss
Angelina's face belies her apprehension
Terror is painted upon her like an artist's illustration
Her fist clench and she wets her quivering lips in nervous tension
Contemplation, anticipation, choked back fear of extinction
Calmly
Willie grips his wheel
He portrays a man with nerves of steel
His concern is not loss of wealth
Nor is it even for himself
He plots a course in his mind
To disarm the pirates for all time
Steady pressure upon the machine's controls
Leave behind these nightmare shoals
Consequences of such endeavors
Often reveals them not so clever
Speed is a dangerous friend
It has been known to abruptly end
Racing the goons from their roadhouse lair
Seems a challenge for the mentally impaired
But this is a Corvette with ample horsepower in it
And this is the life and death decision minute
This road beyond the tracks
Is as treacherous as a snake in a sack
Signs advise caution, to take special care
Curves, switch backs, esses every where
Around a cliff and mountain side
The bandits and Corvette fly
Motorcycle and Corvette side by side
Just one face of awful craze
Of one rider, the moonlight betrays
The sneering scar of the bartender’s features
The leader of these hideous creatures
Willie taunts these animals with controlled aplomb
He is sure they are viscous and also dumb
He knows this road like the back of his hand
He will use it to send these mongrels to the Promised Land
Faster and faster he speeds into the obscurity
Head long into the night he plunges for Angelina's security
Breakneck Corvette careening
Gravity defying motorcycles leaning
Defeated Creek Bridge, rapidly looming
One way passage, hard into 90 zooming
Tires howling, engines roaring, lights flashing
Cycles crashing, metal crushing, men screaming, Corvette leaving
Willie looks at Angelina with confidence in his eye
Angelina now breaks into a full-throated cry
She grasps his shoulder and sobs
He has disposed of the heathen slobs
Their lives to the precipice were thrust
On his Corvette and skill he laid uncommon trust
There will grow upon this foundation
The fruit of this uncommon relation
By George J. Kimble
What brought this sweet girl to a place like this?
Was it the danger, or the promise of a hard kiss?
A promise, of honest money for her talented voice?
Whatever, it was, It was a bad choice
The Playboy with a special agenda of his own
Enticed her there completely alone
Her Cafe's mortgage was way past due
Some times a Girl has to do, what a girl has to do
The Playboy's offer of employment was accepted
The job singing was with out strings connected
The playboy's problem; his advances were rejected
The poor fool felt down right neglected
Then his behavior was less than Chivalrous
He wound up beaten and delirious
Angelina escaped that night at Willie’s side
That night, they took the wild Corvette ride
Suddenly Playboy appears in the cafe's neighborhood
Angelina knows; he is up to no damn good
It is late, way after dark
She's watching Willie, while he tunes up a Shark
Playboy appears in the shadows wielding a club
Stealing ever closer behind the landscaping shrubs
Angelina's heart drops to the floor
As she bolts to the Cafe door
She grabs the nearest thing to use as a weapon
A 14-inch skillet as she runs through the kitchen
Her voice is like a siren loudly screaming
Down her cheeks, tears are abundantly streaming
Playboy is moving like a Leopard in the night
Angelina has focused on him in the dim light
His advance is arrested as she strikes with the pan
The skillet to the head brings down the dangerous man
She pushes him aside with a bellow of power
She is the Valiant, the woman of the hour
Willie was shocked by her control and determination
For her, he was filled with nothing but admiration
To calm her, he offers a smile
Then calls the police, after awhile
Now Playboy, for some time, will be gone
Angelina sings softly and Willie hums along
I relayed this legend of urban life in many of verse
Your time spent reading could have been spent worse
Ever after and for a long time now
These two souls and a Corvette remain tied together somehow
By George J. Kimble
Willie admired Angelina, on at least one occasion,
She had saved his bacon
He was a car nut, and for business that was good
Angelina was frustrated because he was always under a car hood
Angelina wanted to see Willie alone
She wished to know him with out the stresses they had known
She invited him to share a meal
She needs to tell him just how she feels
Willie accepted her invitation
His ego suffered from dramatic inflation
She, to him, was a statue of carved art
She had won over his vulnerable heart
Willie washed and waxed the Glass Horse Corvette
He reserved a table for two at this town’s best
If his friends knew, they would surely die
He even put on a silken necktie
To Angelina’s street Willie rode
There were flashing lights ablaze at her abode
His heart raced with alarm
His muscles twitched in his arm
He prayed she was okay
This was to be their most important day
Tears uncontrollably rolled down his face
As he remembered Angelina’s warm embrace
Willie leaped from the Vette, His face covered with concern
He questioned by-standers but nothing could be learned
The perimeter of men, dressed in blue
Restraining him, offered no clue
The entrance with yellow tape was blocked
Her neighbors stood around in a state of shock
They said, “Sometime earlier in that day”,
“Angelina had left her little Café”
“From the café to the bank she had walked,
To one shopkeeper she had politely talked”
“All the while a villain secretly stalked”
“And now on her carpet a body’s outline was chalked”
“Two shots were fired, several folks had heard,
Who was shooting and who was hit? There wasn’t any word”
Willie was overcome by anger and pain
He had to get answers to settle his brain
Then to a razor faced detective he spoke
A man who eyed him like a bird eyes a worm,
Every question Willie uttered the detective, weighed and turned
He was an inspector of homicide
There were forensic people busy inside
Willie asked, “What happened, had she been raped?”
“Had that jerk, Playboy, from jail escaped”
The detective told Willie, “Be calm and relax”
“Angelina was fine, She had stopped Playboy forever, dead in his tracks”
“Playboy was the one outlined on the floor,
She had shot him with a Colt forty-four”
“She had answered all their questions and they were satisfied”
“This punk did wrong and for that, he had died”
“He could talk to her now, if he pleased”
When he saw her, Willie dropped to his knees
From his pocket, he pulled a small diamond ring
He asked her to marry him and make him feel like a king
She accepted his offer forever, and held him close to her breast
Their love again had survived a furious test
You know how Angelina and Willie came together
And how they came through some pretty stormy weather
This is the story of how their world became so much better
And how Willie proposed to wed her forever.
The lives of some are easy to render
The lives of others are destined to surrender
Each of us has only one life to live
The question is: What are we willing to give?
These two are better now because they will never be alone
They will soon have children and make them a home
Forever is a very long time
And now finally, I have finished this rhyme