Mountain Folk

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