Poetry By Ken in Rainbow Colors






A leaky tin roof and leaning walls
Were features of our shanty small,
Hard clay ground was the floors
And burlap bags hung for doors.

Murky water we drew from a well
Which momma boiled well,
A water-pump would've been nice
But we didn't have the price.

One coal oil lamp lit our nights
With shadowy circles of lights,
It's yellow glow lit up the gloom
When carried from room to room.

A wood stove heated the shanty,
Warmth in winter was very scanty,
Mama cooked atop the relic stove
And huddled by it when she wove.

There was barely enough to eat,
Anything but beans was a treat,
We had to go fish for any meat
Catching enough was quite a feat.

Saturdays we bathed in a rusty tin tub
And momma our backs would scrub
With lye soap she made in a black kettle,
It wasn't much but we had to settle.

Our clothes were hand-me-downs
From a church way across town,
They never seemed to fit quite right
And we were always a ragtag sight.

Daddy tried to provide haul 'in wood
Or livestock when he could,
His boss-man was an ornery old cuss
And hardly better off than us.

We were poor as a church mouse
And never lived in a nice house,
Hard work and prayer kept us alive
And somehow we managed to survive.

After half a lifetime I went home
And that little shanty was gone,
I could say I'm sorry but I won't
I would say I miss home but I don't.




©Written by: Kenneth J. Ellison 08-02-05

Song title: "Wild Rose Of The Mountain"

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