“Texas plumber, green hair, ugly, false teeth”

In the heart of the Lone Star, west of Waco’s wide sprawl,  
Lives a plumber named Billy with green hair standing tall.  
His boots heavy with mud, his hands rough and strong—  
He fixes your faucet while humming a song.  

Now Billy, they say, isn’t much for fine looks:  
Freckles and wrinkles, a face straight from storybooks.  
His nose is a mountain, his chin like a shelf,  
And his false teeth click when he laughs at himself.  

Yet down in the trenches, he’s king of the pipes,  
With a wrench and a smile and a laugh that delights.  
He rides his blue truck through the hot Texas sun,  
The color of cacti, his wild hair spun.  

Kids at the diner peer over their shakes,  
“Is it true?” they all whisper, “Do his dentures make cakes?”  
Billy will wink, take a slurp of his tea,  
And say, “Best on a biscuit with honey and brie!”  

He fixes your leaks, and he fixes your frown,  
With stories and jokes from all over the town.  
So if you see green hair and a wide gummy grin,  
That’s Billy the plumber—let the legend begin.

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