This is just a silly poem. I figure a man needs to loosen the girth once in a while and, just for grins, see what turns loose. There might be some rhyme here but there isn't much reason.
When I go to do some whistlin’ now and then
No telling what hidden message slips
Guess it depends on my intention
And just exactly how I purse my lips
The working principle of a whistle
Is based upon the vibration of air
I don’t understand the science of it all
And, quite frankly, 'reckon I really don’t care
See, "Whistle" can be a noun or a verb
Depending on the word’s use
It’s the device that makes the sound
Or the act of cuttin' a high pitch loose
If a man were to untangle the whistle list
He'd tally puckerin’ lips with fingers or hands
Plus police, factory or referee whistles
Which are meant to give commands
They's lots of options in my repertoire
One time it might be shrill
To call my dogs back over to me
When they've disappeared beyond a hill
Another might be an exclamation
At seeing a purty new view
But don’t blow one loose at girls
Wolf-whistlin’ ain't the right thing to do
There are finer ways to greet beauty
That are quiet, respectful and polite
But you can whistle gratitude after a job
When a long day has finally become night
Sometimes I whistle while workin’
Or just reminiscin' a happy tune
Once I whistled Betsy a love song
Then tried lassoing her the moon
People don’t hafta' be the ones a'whistlin'
Since the sound can be made by wind
As it passes over barbed wire and trees
Or blizzards a snow-mound bein' thinned
Now whistlin's a curious word
I mean, what makes a thing "clean-as"?
I reckon’ if the object is extra tidy
It describes the spotless it has
Let’s not forget "slick-as-a-whistle"
Describing quick as a wink
Meaning whatever happened then
Was done with everything in synch
Remember that old movie line
In which Lauren Bacall had said
Just put your lips together and blow?
Always wondered where that might’a led
Look back on those old stumpin’ routes
Politicians makin’ speeches back when
The train would whistle-stop at a station
Then go to another, doin’ it all again
Of course you can whistle Dixie
Or you can whistle like a train
Or you can straddle a snorty bronc
‘Til that eight-second whistle blows again
Plus there’s whistlin’ in the wind
Which I do reckon just means
No one can hear you at all
So it don’t amount to a hill o’beans
Then there’s wettin’ your whistle
Which can quench a powerful thirst
But doin’ too much wettin’ will
Let folks see you at your worst
Well after all this expoundin'
Here's one thing you can sure be bettin'
I'll be headin' off to have me a whisky
Cuz my, you know, sure needs wettin'
by Rik Goodell
© 2023. All rights reserved
Thank you Gregory Mayse for once again providing your excellent artwork to accompany my poetry. You've provided a number of fine art pieces to either inspire or flesh-out my rhyming stories.
To see more of Mr. Mayse's work, visit his website: https://www.gregorymayse.com/