Socially Shy Poem by D.N. Rebb

I know your type,
You're the kind o' guy
Doesn't put up his arms
When the wave goes by

When the drummer on stage,
Makes his two sticks slap,
Visibly over his head
You are to simultaneously clap

What are you doing,
In this rural church
When the hymning starts
And still sittin' all hush

Way back in school
When teachers demanded
You knew the answers
But never raised your hand

At the local farm market,
Organized chaos develops
You're gonna miss your spot
If you don't just step up

Oh yea, trust me,
She's a pretty girl
But if you don't ask her
Someone else surely will

Can't live your life
Just solely by
A hope n' a prayer
If you're socially shy