Death of an Unpopular Poet

I have been a diehard Parrothead ever since Jimmy Buffett was more outlaw-cowboy-songwriter than hard-drinking-calypso poet. I’ve played in Coral Reefer tribute bands. I have an official “Jimmy Buffett’s Parrothead Club” tattoo on my right arm. I’ve seen the live shows over 70 times. I feel like I’ve just lost a good friend that I have not talked to for a long time.

Rest In Peace, King of Carnivale.

I will miss you. 

Death of an Unpopular Poet

Jimmy Buffett -1973 

I once knew a poet
Who lived before his time.
He and his dog Spooner
Would listen while he’d rhyme.
Words to make ya happy.
Words to make you cry.
Then one day the poet suddenly did die.

But he left behind a closet
Filled with verse and rhyme.
And through some strange transaction
One was printed in the Times.
And everybody’s searchin’
For the king of underground.
Well they found him down in Florida.
With a tombstone for a crown.

Everybody knows a line
From his book that cost four ninety-nine.
I wonder if he knows he’s doin’
Quite this fine.

‘Cause his books are all best sellers.
And his poems were turned to song.
Had his brother on a talk show
Though they never got along.
And now he’s called immortal
Yes he’s even taught in school.
They say he used his talents
A most proficient tool.

But he left all of his royalties
To Spooner his ol’ hound.
Growin’ old on steak and bacon
In a doghouse ten feet ’round.
And everybody wonders
Did he really lose his mind.
No he was just a poet who lived before his time.
He was just a poet who lived before his time.