A PROMPT RESPONSE: #629 Short Sausage Man

As promised, I'm going to try to write a poem for every Friday SPAM prompt I post. I've finally written one for the first prompt, "don't want no short sausage man" (go here for the original June 29 prompt). I've never attempted a blues poem before, but this prompt line just seemed to demand it. Of course, I'm not sure blues poems are supposed to be humorous, so my apologies if I've sullied the tradition:

SHORT SAUSAGE MAN BLUES

Don't want, don't want no short sausage man.

Don't want, don't want no short sausage man.

Don't want his tiny links messing up my frying pan.

Don't want him in my kitchen with his pound of greasy meat.

Don't want him in my kitchen with his pound of greasy meat.

Go back, sausage man, go back out on the street.

I found him on the corner, trying to sell his wares.

I found him on the corner, trying to sell his wares.

I bought what he was selling, and he followed me upstairs.

He's not that bad a looker, though he's short as he can be.

He's not that bad a looker, though he's short as he can be.

Size isn't everything--that's my philosophy.

But he's got a nasty temper, and his cooking's not that good.

He's got a nasty temper, and his cooking's not that good.

Don't want him in my kitchen. Don't want him in my neighborhood.

I don't want him, don't want no short sausage man.

No, I don't want, don't want no short sausage man.

That man and his sausage are heading for my garbage can.

NOTE: Yes, as I maintained here, I do now consider this poem disqualified for submission to journals that don't accept previously published poems. That's okay. I don't plan to submit any of my "SPAM prompt" poetry for publication; this is more about exploring how a poem can be inspired by a prompt, and having some fun while I'm at it.

--Nancy