Puff (with apologies to Peter, Paul and Mary)

Puff the tragic drag-queen lived in D.C.
and frollicked in the evening mist
in a land of make-believe.
Little Jackie Draper loved that rascal Puff
and brought him chains and melted wax and other kinky stuff.

Toogether they would travel down the Metro rail.
Jackie kept the lookout in a suit of Kevlar maile.
Druggies, cops and fences would bow when'er they came.
Turf war gangs put down their gun,
when Puff roared out his name.

A drag-queen lives forever but not so little boys.
Rope-like strings and handcuff rings make way for other toys.
One dark night it happened: Jackie lived no more.
Puff that tragic drag-queen, he ceased his fearless roar.

His head was bent in sorrow; his tears fell like rain.
Puff no longer came to play along the darkened lane.
The cops they tried to force him, but Puff would never tell.
So Puff that tragic drag-queen sadly slipped into his cell.