On a whim I drove down and bought me a cell,
Catch up with the times is the lost creed of youth,
But the salesman I dealt with was sent straight from hell,
Left me yearning at once for a shot of vermouth.
A contract, he said, is what you will need,
If you like I can tell you a little about it.
For the most part I fear he was driven by greed,
Since I left with a hole in my pocket.
I must admit now that I cannot envision
How I ever got by with just everyday phones.
Since I now can call everywhere from brothels to prisons,
Without moving my weary old bones.
