As Sundays ’fore, he once again,
be pickin’ them wild roses.
He donned his best in hand-me-downs
an’ pocketed supposes.
He squared himself, took stock an’ stance,
what needin’s an’ obligin’s.
Laced up his boots with balin’ twine,
enhancin’ his horizons.
Rehearsed awhile in manly talk,
like Bogart in that movie.
An’ practiced, too, his dancin’ moves
to Pinetop\'s Boogie Woogie.
He mounted proud his trusty mule,
rode bareback into evenin’.
A whistlin’ some an’ smilin’ wide;
tonight, she’ll be receivin’.
When saw her there, a sat her porch
where she be sweet an’ charmin’.
A patchwork dress an’ ribbons frayed,
an’ bangles, she be wearin’.
The mule to graze left them to hug
and talked as do young lovers.
Ignored the ills of poverty,
a smooch to soothe their bothers
An’ them to take an’ stomp the porch,
don’ boogied ’till they weary.
They kissed goodnight when he to home
an’ they all sad an’ teary.
To ekin’ out another week
’till Sunday’s eve proposes.
When once again sat proud his mule
with a bunch of wild red roses.