Memories of Home
No matter how far we've grown apart
Memories of home are still in my heart.
Daddy's dogs in Mama's flowers;
December snows and April Showers
Platters of squirrel, cornbread and beans.
Doors and windows without any screens.
Eight little girls and five little boys,
With never any money left over for toys.
The big sandrocks were the girls playhouse
While the boys tried to scare them with a mouse.
The kids have grown and moved away,
There are no more games to play.
Mama and Daddy aren't there anymore
There's no answer when I knock on the door.
So I'll turn around and go on my way,
While I remember a happier day.
The Life of John A. Key
When I was just a little girl, upon my grandpas knee,
I listened to the stories that my Grandpa told to me.
He told of how he was born in the year of 1859
In a little house not far from the Carroll County Line.
He was a hard working lad, and lived a christian life
And in 1888 he took Ailcey Adaline as his wife.
Their four children played and grew up on the family farm,
They went to church each Sunday--never doing any harm.
As the children grew and married, going separate ways
They ne'er forgot their childhood and the happy days.
Julia was the oldest, a fair and lovely child
And with the help of Ray brought eight children to this world.
Jesse came along next, the familys only son
He and Mildred raised four more--our story is half done.
Irene married Otey, they had a beautiful baby boy
Then she married Patrick and raised a girl, so coy.
Mary was wed to Roy--their sons they numbered two
Now you know where this is all leading to.
A whole new generation in the family tree.
A part of a wonderful family, I'm so very proud to be.
John and Ailcey lived and loved 'till 44, when Ailcey went away
To wait for John in Heaven--oh it was a mournful day.
John (my grandpa) went to join her in 1962,
To live again with Ailcey in a world so new.
They're waiting for us, patiently, with all their love
In the glorious home of our Heavenly Father, up above.
No One Knew His Name
He sits on the corner all day and begs
The blonde haired man who has no legs.
No one knows from where he came
No one has ever asked his name.
We've never heard him say a thing
Since he came to our town,late last spring.
What was that? A shot I heard!
Down on the corner of Main and Third
He lies there in a crumpled heap
No one even stops to weep
His hair so blonde, his skin so fair
Doesn't anyone even care?
In his hand's a picture of his wife
Tell me, God, why'd he take his life?
A purple heart is pinned upon his chest
That tells part of the story, What's the rest?
As I knelt down beside him, upon a bended knee
There right beside him; a diary I did see.
It started in September nineteen sixty four
The young man is a soldier; headed off to war.
He tells his pretty wife that really he must go
To free those forlorn people who seem to need him so.
The wife stayed on the farm; gathering up the eggs
He stepped on a land mine; that's how he lost his leggs.
But when he came home, it just wasn't the same
She said that she was sorry she'd ever changed her name.
She said they couldn't dance, the way they used to do
He looked at her with sorrow, he knew that this was true.
That's how he came to our town' this young man so fair
We never even knew him' we didn't even care.
My Place in this World
In the middle of the Ozarks
Near a sleepy little town,
Is where I live, I love and laugh
My roots I have set down.
The bluebirds and the robins sing
High in the old oak tree;
As in the shade I sit and rock
My grandkids on my knee.
Away from the hustle and the bustle
Of life in the big city;
I can really feel for those folks
They certainly have my pity.
A little cool clear water stream
Lies just down the way;
Today I think I'll pack a lunch
And there we'll go to play.
When this day is finally done and
The whipoorwills sing their song;
I'll get down upon my knees and pray
That I have done no wrong.
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