A few years ago, our friend singer/songwriter Paul Harris (pictured) wrote a poem about Jack. He came across it this morning and we thought we'd share:
You Don’t Know Jack
I’ve been told before, on occasion
“Son, you don’t know jack”
Usually by some older fellas, when I am the young guy tryin' to explain somethin'
Well….they need to take it back
'Cause Jack is a friend of mine
A good guy to know and a real pard
He’s got a head full of poems
One for any occasion
A real old time bard
He can take a team of Percherons
Make 'em dance the Watusi
Or a slow waltz
Has a voice that could command legions
There is power there when he talks
When you ask him how long he has been somewhere
He’ll tell you by the day not the year
And at the mention of a baby in an apple box
He ain’t afraid to shed a tear
I remember the first time I met him
An outstretched hand and a big wide grin
“I’m Jack” he said
Beneath the fucamoochalati
There across his lip and onto his chin
I’ve never seen a man act so giddy
Or bounce around with glee
Than when his sweetheart would show up to camp and someone would say
“Hey Jack, there’s Cory”
When it comes to biscuits
He’s a chef and a conniseur
Why…he can make 'em rise so high
People could use for card tables
And they’re so wide they wouldn’t fit through the door
He even has a skirt
An oversized wild rag he calls it
And I usually play along
'Till I can’t take it anymore and no end of grief I give him
Though he claims "All the men in Tahiti wear them,
They call it a sarong”
We have wreaked havoc in a restaurant
and a bar or two
But they don’t kick you out for laughin' and jokin'
Even our waitress was joinin' in
before we were through
Yeah, I am pretty sure them fellas are wrong
and now all you folks too from where you stand and sit
We can all look 'em in the eye and say
“I do, too, know Jack Schmidt”
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