Dirt roads are home to me,
I love kicking up dust.
I get no traction on pavement,
old backwoods are what I trust.
If you come around these parts,
even kids have a warning sign,
If Papa is off working,
Mama carry conceals her nine.
Even the kids know how to shoot,
these dogs are fed for a reason.
Don't come round here making noise
when it's hunting season.
If you wanna know your rights,
look down the barrel of this gun.
Watch out for your backside,
the dogs bite where there ain't sun.
We're friendly as can be
long as you don't ask for trouble.
Sit down at the kitchen table,
I'll even pour ya a double.
None of them fruity drinks,
except some peach moonshine.
If you can handle it there, son,
well you just might be alright.
-
Author:
Just Your Average Writer (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 17th, 2025 12:31
- Comment from author about the poem: Just some downhome humor... Written with slang to capture the setting
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments3
I think I have been there and met him. Not a bad place. Loved the write
Thanks. Awesome that you like it
Welcome to MPS 🕊️🙏🏻
Thank you. Nice to meet you.
You’re welcome 🙏🏻🕊
Thats an entertaining read of their home area, enjoyed the read
So glad you did. Thank you
You are very welcome
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