Let’s hear it for Alphonso,
going home at last,
goddamn him anyway.
Let’s hear it for Alphonso.
He had a form for everything,
the inside track.
Need a mattress or a fan?
See Alphonso.
He’ll get it for twenty-five.
Got a bronze star yet?
See Alphonso.
He’ll write the commendation.
Want a dozen steaks or a Red Cross girl?
See Alphonso.
He’ll arrange it.
One more time for little Alphonso.
He had all the right forms.
But one.