Who burned grandad’s outhouse down The culprits were never found Many names came up for selection But somehow they managed to avoid detection The outhouse seemed the place to hide And sneak a smoke or just confide How that good looking girl at school Told you she thought you were cool...
There was no privacy on a party-line if you were conversing with a friendanyone could pick up the phone and listen in we never had a smartphone in our pocketall the girls kept the boys’ numbers in their lockets Our long hair tangled in the phone line cordmom would undue it...
I went to work with my daddy one dayI thought I was just going to get to playbut it sure didn’t turn out that way He put a small hammer in my little handhanded me a junction box looked like a square tin can and he said to hit it right...
I kept my mama’s letters I read them every yearI think about how precious they are and how I hold them dearthe time and place seem long agoShe-wrote of life and things she knows Everything’s fine she would sayDaddy had some work come his way Sally and girls moved just down...
The wheelwright cut, chiseled, fashioned, and shaped. wheels from wood are what he made The craft of the wheel Wright was high in demand all of it made and shaped by his hand Over rocky roads carrying heavy loads that is how adventurous families travel down the roads They depended on...
There’s a haunting sound of the train on the tracksAlways rolling down the line Then races right back That Chug a chug a soundrolling on thin metal shaking the ground the train car is loaded down with the graincausing the echoing of that sad refrain The whistle blows as she goes...
When April came callingWith Sunshine rain and flowers following That year April brought us something grandWhen aunt Marjorie arrived with a bag in her hand With shouts of excitement, we begged what’s insideSo she pulled some things out and our eyes opened wide Four beautiful dresses all brand spanking newThere was...
Her fingers moved to and froThe fabric from her table flowed She always had a fine designHer handy work was so divine There never was a seamstressWho could make a finer dress Even those who were nimblecould never hold a thimble
Even children find it hard to say these wordsMaybe from fear, their voice won’t be heard
