Pilgrims 3: Reeves

Reeves

‘Show some respect, ya lowlife.’
This is Reeves, a little peeved.
‘Ha! George what’s with you?’
This is Miller, a little drilled
by the dead men lined up
on the seat beside him.

Reeves useta be a Janitor,
did some nightschool,
yep, inspected buildin’s.
He and Miller useta be pals,
but Reeves is too white-collar now,
runs a tycoon’s portfolio
of the realest-estate in blue-collar towns.

Miller still works in the meat packing plant;
divorced with a mortgage he doesn’t want.
Maybe some needle in every gag,
the day ain’t comin’ for the junkyard dog.

'George, not Georgie, Mr Reeves to you.
I ain’t got time for a how-dee-do.
Property management: it’s damn important,
buildings, property, real-estate
that’s what makes America great.
I work for a guy started with beans,
now he’s a reg’lar money machine,
the donkey and elephant cannot move,
‘cept my boss gives a greenbacked shove.
I gotta tale about Education,
and meat-packers way above their station
and how Hah-Vahd boys weighed them out
though they wuz crackers from the south.'

Reeve’s Story:

Summer 1958:
‘Hah-Vahd Pahty’ for the summer break.
Phi Beta Kappa want a real good time,
gonna roast a whole half-a-beef,
and the big man on campus name of Keith
gets the bit between his teeth.

Keith tells Billy McKay and Joe Don Black
take charge of the Frat House thrash again.
It’s a side of beef they really want,
in the Cambridge Yellows in a wooden phone booth,
‘Muller Suppliers of Beef in Quantity.’
Keith sez ‘Gents, that’ll do for me!’

But do it don’t
or so it turns out.
A guy called Simkin
is milling about:
‘Beef ya want? Don’t get it here,
I goddit cheaper, it ain’t a bum steer.’
Simkin Beef: how-dee-doo
ya can’t beat my meat
though I often do.’

Simkin owns a three-cow processing plant,
maybe a mean little operation
don’t mean he don’t get more than his ration.

Just a few hours later Keith finally shows :
‘I gotta a deal, a deal that glows
a whole fat, marbled cow
we’ll dine like kings, boys and how.
Simkin gave me his hand on the deal
And the meat’ll be tender ‘cause it’s fed on meal.’

Well, the day comes and the beef comes too.
‘Must a walked here,’ someone drily says
‘I seen more meat on the sole of my shoe.’

Looks bad raw and stringy tough,
they spit it for a day until it’s dark.
If it cooked for a week, wouldn’t be enough.

Keith refuses to call Simkin at all.
Savannah Boys Billy McKay and Joe Don Black
swear they’ll pay the chiseller back.

‘Meet Simkin, at Muller’s back door,
he’s usually there from half-past four’

Alone he ain’t.
There’s a guy with
the guy called Simkin
who’s milling about:
‘Beef ya want? Come and try mine,
the ladies say my meat is fine.
Simkin Beef: how-dee-doo
ya can’t beat my meat
though I often do.’

Billy thinks the Lampoon’s the New Yorker
and so he just busts up with laughter:
But ‘cause theyz just cracker Undergrads
don’t mean theyz there ta be had.

They foller him out to Trumpington
A burg, a village, a suburban town.
A quiet place ‘til the sun goes down.

Billy says:
‘Mister, I hear your meat’s the best
we’d like a free sample to put to the test’.
‘Well, I like to be careful where my meat goes,
Will ya take it wrapped, some I already chose.’

Joe Don lets out a loud guffaw,
slaps Simkin’s back
‘bout lays him on the floor.

‘We’ll come in the plant an’ help ya choose,
long as y'all give us some overshoes.’
Joe Don and Billy park the Buick
the doors don’t lock but no never mind
they need to see that meat in the flesh.

Simkin stumbles against the Buick’s trunk,
like a Mack Sennet actor pretending he’s drunk.
Well it’s just too much for the parking brake
and it’s off down the hill towards Lookout Lake.
Joe Don and Billy chase the damn car,
But they can’t stop it it’s gone too far.
Simkin reckons he ain’t so dumb
reckons he showed them Hah-Vahd scholars some.

But some ain’t all,
And it ain’t over yet.
They ask Ol ‘Simkin
for a room for the night.
Room ya want? Well, it’s only right
But my house is real small
if you can make it fit us all:
me, my wife and daughter Malyne
and my baby son who never stops cryin’.

Joe Don and Billy drag the furniture round;
the sofa and three queen-sized beds
til finally enough room is found
for the cradle that rests the baby’s head.

Billy opens a bottle a wine,
pours generously for the Wife and Malyne,
Joe Don gives Simkin a coupla fingers
persuades old Meaty no rancour lingers.

The Wife can sink it for a Parson’s daughter
Malyne drinks more than a new mother oughta
Simkin proves a harder nut,
sinks two and a half bottles of the rottenest gut.

But drunk he gets
and no mistake
the snores from Simkin
are rattlin’ winders
‘Beefs we got, we lost a car,
you screwed us over once too far
Simkin Beef how-de-do
we can’t beat your meat
But we’re gonna beat you.'

To bed they go
But guess which ones.
The wife is in Simkin’s
At least for a while.

She gets up like women do,
she’s gotta go to the powder room.
Billy moves the cradle to near his bed
The wife comes back gets in his instead.

Don’t think Malyne uz been left out,
Joe Don’s been on her before she can shout
for help, for Mom or even Dad,
then settles down to the best meat she’s had.

Joe Don looks for Billy in the wrong bed,
He ain’t in the one by the baby’s head.
Tells the sleeper all about Malyne:
she may be a mother but she did just fine.

So up he gets
just fit to bust.
The arm of Simkin
comes down real fast
'Beef you had, that meat was mine.
I know you students, know you fine.
Simkin’s Beef, how-de-do.
You’ve had my meat
now I’ll beat you.'

But a course he don’t,
he ain’t the sharpest knife
the boys are long gone,
‘cause in the bed’s his wife.