Mountain Folk
There was an old bloodhound on the porch
And a rocking chair or two
With chickens scratching in the yard
With a rusty pickup too
They said grace before each meal
While holding hands in prayer
With the turkey centerpiece
Juicy beyond compare
Old timers ate collards and cornbread
With a glass of buttermilk
And fresh peas with a knife
With mashed potatoes a bit
There was the usual game of dice
For those who liked to bet
With those that had gotten drunk
Running up their debt
Nappers stretched out here and there
Dozing and content
Full of all the turkey they ate
And snoring loud a bit