Bad Poetry Thursday: Michiganderr

Hopefully I've exorcised most of the Michigan out of me this week, though it was fun!

My stayd’s shapped like a midden.
I-usta live here. Now I live here.
Close ta da big lake.
Led me show ya on ma hand.
I’ma Michiganderr.

Exid 69. The Big BEEver. I-sevendy-five.
Stop near Flin. Tony’s. Home of the Big Samwich.
The hunder’s special: 5 gallons of chili.
Pounda bacon. Samwiches.
Onda wayda deer camp.

Maahm wanded us guys ta take the Chriscraft out.
She say’s, “it’s geddin’ late in da season.”
“Led’s cruise LayKEEie on las-dime. Hava cole one.”
But I said, “Maahm, deeahd ‘n’ us guys
Argoin’ hunin’ this weeken.”

In Gaylerd we stop at Meijer’s.
Pick up some supplies.
Ammo. 2 gallons of melk. Stroh’s.
Huntin’ licenses.
Feelin’ da calla da wuds.

Over Da Bridge. Up neerda Soo.
Inda landofda Yooper.
Oudin da wuds. Da sounda nachure.
Da foilage seemsda strech FREVer.
Geeze-O-Pete id’s cole.

Id’s deer camp. An all us guys are happy.
Away from da women and da big ciddies.
Deerburn, aehNarbor,
Grrarapids, Di’TROI!
Camp’s finally dethawed.

We drink our Stroh’s and play Euchre
And reminisce about poor Jimmy
Who drownded in the lake last year.
We goddar guns. We goddar ammo.
But we never shood no deer.