Strange question indeed,
So I asked one and all;
Explain to me:
“What's a plumber's ball?”
Family and friends
Heeded my call,
But none could confine,
Refine or define it,
Yet Paul was sure
He could design it.
Still, none could satisfy
“What the hell is a plumber's ball?”
Does it sweat the pipe
Or wiggle the snake:
Can it clamp the nipple
For Heaven's sake?
Could it snap on the cock-hole cover?
All these queries
Made me wonder.
Has it something to do
With hardness leakage,
Or screwing the ball-cock
To stop a seepage?
Has it anything to do
With a saddle valve dripping,
Or two pipes mating?
And, I heard of male and female fittings,
And should I worry
If I'm standing or sitting?
If you're discharging the head
Or elongating the pipe,
Does the plumber's ball
Help it snug tight?
Is it in my tank,
Or in my bowl,
Beneath the floor
Near the drainage hole?
Is the plumber's ball
In the back of the truck
(Jeff laughed and said
One could rub it for luck).
I asked Michel
If he could tell,
He sensed it was something
He could smell.
I sought out Ray,
Perhaps he'd know,
But he was on call
To restrain a back-flow.
I couldn't ask Gary
For his wisdom and sense,
He was wigglin' the snake
To unclog a wet vent.
Henry, Rick, Scotty and Brian,
Gave shameless answers
I couldn't rely on.
It's not a crapper, tail piece
Or catch basin, reamer,
O-ring or pipe dope.
So I searched the Net
With a fool's wonder,
And read of ball-checks,
Gas cocks and plungers.
I know it's too late
To ask Rolly or Ross,
For both of them knew,
And that's our loss.
And Ernie's gone golfing
So I can't ask the Boss.
With final resolve
I fell to my knees,
To pray St. Ferrer
With grace intercede.
His silence left me
In a state of depression;
Had Ferrer washed his hands
Of the plumbing profession?
So nothing could settle
I still didn't know,
What's a plumber's ball?
Suddenly, it hit me,
He's never wrong,
The Dalai Lama of dip-tubes,
I'll ask John.
Where others did falter,
John's a rock:
He knows the difference
Between a gas and ball cock.
With a knowing smile
He embraced our Hall:
Here, good friend, is your Plumbers' Ball.
screaming in pain
cleaning her drain
it was very clogged
I am very logged
loved my plumbers crack
she gave my ass a smack
faucet beginning to leak
from the point of the peak
ended up in bed
she gives good head
wanted bill to be free
told me during my morning pee
I said you lost your mind
so I poked her from behind
how about half price
she said sorry no dice
please free she would beg
as she played with my third leg
running wild was my imagination
you could feel my frustration
after the plumbing was all done
it turned out she was a nun
i am the piper
cept my pipes are
a bit rusty
out of tune
its too late for monthly checkups
but you never seem to mind
but you see the only reason they are
so worn out
is because i sing my melody
as loud and beautiful as I can
every time we do the dance of passion
no, they can't be rusty
i've serenaded so many other women before you
that can't be
your melody is sweet, pure, harmonious
but of course, you've only just started
you make me feel like an old man
whose pipes have seen generations
i almost feel bad serenading such a pure heart
but i know what will happen
you will leave me soon
yes, I know from our passion dances that you
but when you find another whose music is sweeter
more pure than my coarseness
you will love him more
its only a matter of time...
Terry and I climb a different hill today,
a narrow trail
weaving among wildflowers
where we search for an old water intake,
finding rusty pipe but no collection box.
Mountain plumbing is constant crisis
as storms re-engineer the landscape
while three hundred houses wait to wash.
Terry, you should know, operated
the water system for years and years
in our old hippie town.
we walk around the former reservoir
that collapsed in the winter of ’82.
Now that was a crisis.
I say I used to come to this hilltop
every day at sunset with my dog
to meet a woman and her dog.
Terry says thirty or forty years ago
he used to come to this hilltop
every solstice to drop acid with his buddies.
“When was the last time you took LSD?” I ask.
“Last week,” Terry says.
Terry, you should know, is seventy-two
with cardiac plumbing that has
weathered a few storms.
He says the trips are milder now, sweeter,
like spring-water from the little glen
on the hill above his cabin,
gurgles out slowly
but worth the wait,
at the end of that trail
only you and I know.
Words flow no longer a trickling drip
but the raging Mississippi with that
dream steamboat demotic.
It is good and I am whole.
The spirit is alive
and flows from these enlivened fingertips.
I am my own and this energy will be harvested.
I will storm and I will rage from dawn
Through the twinkling night.
I was three , no bigger than a west Texas tumbleweed . . . just three .
My mother hung the wash out on the line
and wiped the sweat off her brow with her hand .
Half an hour later the clothes were frozen .
Blue Norther . . . you can see them coming
a hundred miles away .
Wichita Falls , Texas . . . on the Wichita river .
Moses sat on a mountaintop gazing at the promised land but it was out of his hands now .
Leaning on his staff , the one that ate the Pharoh's two serpents . . . sssssssilently a single tear falls to the ground .
No fence could hold me . . . I was over or under in seconds .
A terror at three , a potential runaway .
The police knew me by first name . . . just three .
The plains of North Texas , jackrabbits , coyotes , rattlesnakes and all . . . were home .
Forty years of desert wilderness ,
till the last man , woman , and child of Egyptian connection had died ,
. . . . . . was such a sacrifice made . . . . . .
Moses was the last to fall .
On a mountaintop of no consequences .
"Run Rabbit Run"
Not fun to have the toilet water rise up
and come through the bath tub... Yikes!
I pumped and pumped, with the plunger
hoping to unplug it.
I pumped so much I got exhausted.
My daughter said,
"Mom, relax! let the landlord fix
the problem, you'll have plenty
more plugged toilets in your life."
"I've never had toilet problems
'till I met you."
For this was the second time she
decided to flush things that don't
break down, down the toilet.
The landlord gave her a quick lesson
on the two things that she may
flush down or clean with,
toilet paper and 20 dollar bills.
So he claimed?
I'm startin' to run out of nursery rhymes
So, I made up one of my own
It's about a nearsighted plumber
That was accidently glued to his throne
Once upon a time, long, long ago
There was a plumber, who I'll call Dale
Poor old Dale had a hard time plumbing
Cause he really couldn't see very well
He'd gotten a call, "The toilet won't flush!
Please, can you come right away?"
Well, old Dale got in such a hurry
He forgot to take his glasses that day
Well, by the time old Dale had got there
The house was in quite a mess
He realized he'd forgotten his glasses
But he'd give that toilet his best
He'd not seen this since plumbing school
But then, he only saw it on a test
And by the time, he got his tools together
The water was starting to crest
He had spotted the problem right away
But remember now, he can only half see
The water was squirtin' six feet high
And poor Dale was only five foot three
He laid his glue on the toilet seat
While trying his best not to drown
He couldn't see where he put it at
And, of course, that's where he sat down
He didn't even know 'till it was too late
He'd bent over to loosen a nut
And that's when he first noticed that thing
The toilet was glued to his butt
So, if you ever need a real good plumber
He's the man for the job, without fail
And I hope you enjoyed this story
About the nearsighted plumber named Dale
I forgot tell you, there's one more thing
About the nearsighted plumber named Dale
That man still has that toilet seat
For the thing's still glued to his tail
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