RURAL AREAS HAVE THEIR CHARM, BUT...

Tales of happenings at the Murphys Hotel are legend. One that comes to mind was eulogized in a poem by my friend Glenn Wasson. I've included in part his poem, Too Much To Swallow:

One boisterous night in the Murphys Hotel
As patrons lined up at the bar
An event took place, too dubious to tell;
'Twas unseemly, gross and bizarre.

A miner walked in with an obvious grin
Ordering drinks for the roistering crowd.
The bar settled down to let him begin
Which he did with a manner quite proud.

From out of his pocket, a nugget he'd panned
Was placed where everyone saw
To be fondled and hefted in each heavy hand
An object of envy and awe.

As the drinkers inquired where the miner had dug it,
A patron slipped it into his beer,
Thinking,"I'll have me that nugget, I'll just chug-a-lug it"
And with a gulp made the piece disappear.

The barroom was stunned but the miner was cool;
From out of his belt came a knife.
He said, "Cough up the nugget, you guzzling fool
If you want to enjoy further life."

A three day transition from mouth to emission
Is a well-known medical fact,
Or so it was said by the local physician
Of a normal intestinal tract.

But three days passed by and he failed to expel
And this measurably heightened the tension.
A watch was put on the prisoner's cell,
Now the focus of growing attention.

I cannot unveil in graphic detail
The nugget's final appearance
Decorum in poetry must prevail
Lest we offend its cultured adherents.

But it came to pass on the seventh day
When the guard heard the prisoner shout,
"Unlock my cell; I'm on my way.
"That damnable nugget came out!


Glenn Wasson now owns the nugget