Big fits best, sixty four inch chest, six foot two, size fifteen shoe, four hundred and twenty pounds
Came from the back hills, where his barehand hunting skills were aided by his coon hounds
Seldom did bath, smelled like an opened grave, had a full beard he never combed or shaved
Bits of food were woven in, with a yellow cavity grin, he would pick one or two to chew that he\'d saved
Heart condition so they couldn\'t tase, billy clubs wouldn\'t phase, he loved to mess with the police
He\'d spin donuts around their car, get out grab some tar and on their windshield rub black grease
With bikers too he loved to screw, at a bar tipped over the bikes of the whole Hell\'s Angel\'s gang
Too scared to take him on, called the police, finding out it was John, their repeated calls just rang
No one dared to tell him of his smell, just had to sit and endure hell, even when gas was passed
Drank warm beer off the shelf, would often piss himself, there wiping his hand, a handshake asked
All the women he\'d defend, then with a bow he would bend, his ma had taught him how
At them he\'d just stare, ask to run their fingers through his hair, ask them to share his chow
Though big and stout, one day his heart gave out, I\'ll miss him, never knew a bigger guy
Because of his smell, they wouldn\'t take him in hell, devil ordered special angel wings for him to fly