What is this black olive doing
in my martini glass?
He took his grubby, stubby, snarling fingers
To my jaw and threw me on the floor.
I rolled into a corner.
My body jarred, and I heard my thump,
as it bruised me to the core.

I regained myself,
when a high heel walked in.
She thought she was high and mighty,
As all of her sheer weight,
brushed against my skin.
The thick smoke in the room
filled my every pore.
I began to choke,
as I wobbled to the door.

Yes, I was half smashed,
And, I shouldn't have been in that
nasty, smelly bar,
But, it was that man behind the scene,
that took me from the jar.
I was made for steak and class,
Not like the olive green,
And, I couldn't believe that my fate,
had dared to turn to such a scene.
One more hard, harsh smash,
And, I knew I would be dead,
That's when the heavy door opened,
And, it hit me in the head.

Yes, my olive oiled,
And I thought that I saw stars.
I knew I was in love,
With that cowboy that road in,
As he told the high heeled lady,
"Look at that poor olive,"
time and time again.

I was in a daze and fog,
But, I couldn't take defeat.
I just needed a Mercy moment,
To get back upon my feet.
The music was blaring loud
into my ear.
Somehow, I really knew,
I had to get out of there.
I couldn't even think, or cope,
Much less to try and hear.
I couldn't move or bend.

Suddenly, the door opened,
And I was carried by the wind.
I was gently set into the street,
When a bum came along.
I was petrified,
As I laid there at his feet.
He put me in his coat pocket,
For a midnight treat.
The lining was so soft,
And, I was really beat.
It wasn't very long before,
I went to sleep.

The bum went into the Mission,
Where a special olive oil was made.
On the pressing table,
Were where a million olives laid.
He threw me in the stack,
And, almost broke my back
I thought him very rude.
The bum ran to eat the free, earthly food
And, live his sordid life.
He cheated, gambled, and
Loved to beat his wife.
As the Presser worked,
My bruises seemed to fade.
Now, I'm swimming freely,
In the soothing pool of annoiting oil,
Jesus Christ has made.

Ida Rosetta Raye Johnson













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