Ham bone stripped naked,
Collards spun in the washer;
Southern Spring cleaning.
There’ll be hell to pay,
Somebody et’ biscuits;
Unleavened potluck.
You can keep your “facts,”
Lightning strikes from the ground up;
Grandaddy said so.
The lifelong neighbor,
We called him Uncle Daddy;
Honorific kin.
Summer winds don’t lie,
Polecats don’t mix with coondogs;
Quick! Close the windows!
Hot-blooded Baptist,
She done mooned the preacher man;
Bleached-blonde backslider.
Arkansas weather,
All four seasons in one week;
Bring shoes just in case.
Two ears and three toes,
I said, “Leave that critter be;”
Earl wouldn’t listen.
She forgets her name,
Pines, now tall, remember her;
They share the same roots.
Daddy was our rock;
Nobody knew but the dog,
That even stones cry.
“You can keep your “facts,”
Lightning strikes from the ground up;
Grandaddy said so.”
A lesson here from my own life, except the 2nd line would read, “Dynamite blows down, not up.”
Sing a song of southron.
These are absolutely wonderful.
Here’s a one-liner in the same vein from Sen. Sam Ervin: “The second kick of a mule is not education.”
Pines, tall, once swayed in her shade…
Thanks…this is my great-granddaddy’s axe…two heads and three handles later…