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Tim
Senior Member

since 1999-06-08

Posts 1794

0 posted 2003-02-02 10:04 PM

Times were tough in thirty-four,
Blowing dust and not much more,
Pa worked the fields twelve hours a day,
To watch his crops get blown away.

Now Pa he did not toil alone,
Ma wore her fingers to the bone,
Cooking breakfast before first light,
Darning clothes far in the night.

And then there's me, I would help too,
Oh by the way, I'm Mary Lou,
An only child, I must admit,
That bothered me, at least a bit.

I had no friends with which to play,
The nearest town twelve miles away,
Just Ma and Pa and me made three,
A Kansas dust bowl family.

Pa built our house from rough hewn oak,
That's what you do when you are broke,
Out front a porch with a rocking chair,
Where Ma would brush my golden hair.

Now it might seem we had it bad,
But we made do with what we had,
A flour sack would make a dress,
Boiled potatoes made a meal to bless.

Through it all we had each other,
I loved my father and my mother,
And they loved me, we had it all,
Out on the farm, then came the fall.

My birthday was the eighth of September,
It was still hot, best that I remember,
For my birthday, Pa built me a swing,
I was elated, I wanted to sing.

I would swing for hours, wind in my face,
In the oak tree out back, my own special place,
I was so happy, I thought it was heaven,
In the swing that I got, when I turned eleven.

Reprise:

I walked along hot dusty roads, at end of summer day,
Feeling sorry for myself, no one with whom to play,
Exiled to my grandpa's farm, on Kansas plain untreed,
From the city had been sent, was one less mouth to feed.

Twelve years old in isolation, no children within sight,
So I wandered country lanes, in anger at my plight,
One day I came upon a house, rough hewn and poorly built,
On the porch a rocking chair, on chair, a faded quilt.

Through gateless fence, with peeling paint, I walked through unmown lawn,
It looked as if, no one was home, as if the owner's gone,
Then I heard a friendly voice, a girl with golden hair,
Calling from rope swing out back, from lone oak standing there.

"Will you come and play with me, I'm lonely can't you see,"
I ran and joined my new found friend, as happy as can be,
Suddenly my fate had changed, my exile now was pleasure,
As I played with Mary Lou, my newfound friend, my treasure.

Was getting late, was time to go, grandpa would be worried,
So said goodbye to Mary Lou, and down the road I scurried,
Grandpa asked what I had done, this hot and humid day,
I told him of my Mary Lou, and how with her did play.

With a look of puzzlement, grandpa scratched his head,
Said perhaps its getting late, for you it's time for bed,
The next day bright and early, grandpa called to me,
Let's go for a little ride, to see what we can see.

He drove me to a rough hewn house, with oak tree out behind,
Said let's take a walk out back, to see what we can find,
We came upon a little knoll, beyond the lone oak tree,
A tiny cross with words inscribed, that grandpa read to me.

"Here lies our daughter Mary Lou, who now resides in heaven,
The angels came and took her home, when she was but eleven."
Grandpa took my hand in his, as walked back to his truck,
Not a single word was spoken, was if the words were stuck.

As we drove away that morn, I turned and looked behind,
Not knowing what I thought I'd see, or if I'd lost my mind,
I saw a porch and rough hewn house, a quilt on rocking chair,
And on a swing in oak out back, young girl with golden hair.

seven_conscious
Junior Member

since 2003-01-27

Posts 33

1 posted 2003-02-02 10:14 PM

what a great story!

Sunshine

Administrator

Member Empyrean

since 1999-06-25

Posts 63354
Listening to every heart