Soon the southern sun will rise,
Its rays intrude upon mine eyes.
When mornings creep and stubborn sleep
Won’t shake itself from groggy feet,
That’s when I want chicken biscuits from Bojangles.
Back to work, back to school, back to loud, waking worlds
Embrace your nine to five, your daily haggle
And despite your weatherd face, despite dreams long unfurled,
Never wish for life without a battle.
Rather, to help charge the field, to help straighten the tangles,
Take comfort in the small and familiar
Like a big sweet tea and an order of Bo-rounds from Bojangles.
Wise men have said, in chorus and in God’s stead,
“You can’t always get what you want.”
In imploring tone, and those words read,
Bojangles franchisees in every haunt, I implore:
Erect a restaurant on Cherokee Boulevard on the North Shore of Chattanooga, TN.
You would recoup your investment through sales to this speaker alone.