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A Widow in Fall City
She makes possum pot lucks,
and rabbit tenders,
Frog legs and Deer Stew
I never much cared for
but my father said,"Yes you do"
He'd force it in if he could
and would say,"Be polite, it's manners",
While the family had banter, I was choking,
My Memaw was a strange bird
to cook these southern dishes
or these roadside appetizers,
She would give me quarters
when it came to Christmas
and bible verses on Halloween,
and birthdays were a dollar for every
year I had lived to see,
She would ask if I have plans
for my future and offer a good bank
to get an account started,
She would give me books to read
that I never had intrest in
but I read them anyway, because manners,
What I never knew is how she came
by her money or her assests,
If she had someone to assist her
or a benefactor not yet known,
She was by all design a black widow
I had learned later on,
Preying on men with one foot in the grave
or a drinking problem easily spotted
by a general slur,
or purr of arousal for her,
The first two I never knew,
They were well to do types
who left her this and that in
the will but never property
until the one I do remember came along,
Neil,
Neil was a strange stray
with too much land,
He would drink worlds worst
in terms of what we refer to as, Beer,
Fall City,
Rot gut,
He went through two cases a day
and never ever left his chair,
I'd say hi and make a b-line
for anywhere else on Earth,
He was a trainwreck,
He switched to Vodka,
four bottles a day
is never okay,
and he died quickly after that
when his blood
just became alchol,
We could draw from him
and drink for a week
Taking shots of Neil,
My Memaw inherited
enough money and bought some
property out in the hills of Tennessee,
but she's married a doctor now
and chose not to stay there,
Poor guy must be ready to go
