He’s sort of wonky, sort of cranky.
Spits his chew into his hanky.
Plays his guitar sharp or flat.
Rarely knows where he is at.
Makes off with neighbors’ garbage lids,
yells at all the little kids.
His vision’s getting sort of dim,
so when the kids throw rocks at him,
he thinks that it is just a gale
pelting him with balls of hail.
Once he was a little kid,
doing as his parents bid,
but now it seems to be his fate
to be his home town’s reprobate!
The prompt today was crank.