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THE FLORIDA CRACKER
He was a long and lanky fellow
with a ragged pair of pants
his shirt was patched and tattered
he had a loose and gangly stance
He wore and old slouch hat
with a goose feather in the brim
There were lines around his eyes from squinting
and he was sunburned and oddly thin
His back was stooped from much hard work
following the plow
and his hair was turning silver
where it grew beyond his brow
He had built a little shanty
in a far part of the woods
a place for his wife and children
and a shelter for his goods
The AOA had given land some time ago
for folks who'd tote a gun
who promised if the indians came
they'ed not jump up and run
His grand pa had got the placce
when his pa was just a boy
then it became his own land
and it was his pride and joy
He had some bottom land down in the swamp
but most was good top soil
and here he laboured every day
hours of hard work and toil
an old shot gun was slung across his back
for security and game
for if he heard a deer or bear
he'd shoot it if it came
And way down in that tangled swamp
underneath a cypress tree
he had a little moon shine still
where he'd fill up your old tin cup
for just a little fee
and sometimes late of evening
on a Saturday afternoon
his friends would gather there and drink some
and someone would bring a fiddle
and they'ed play a few old tunes
for there weren't much intertainment
out in them old sand hills
so you just got what joy you could
from out that little still
He had a little herd of cattle
that grazed the open range
and with his neighbors, bout once a year
they'ed round them up, and mark and brand
and sell a few for change
He had a little leanto barn
he'd built it late last fall
where he kept his tools and plows and milk pails
and hs old cow whip hung on the wall
And this fall, he build a smoke house
if he could scrape enough of funds
and then he'd catch a wild boar or two
for he always worried 'bout the eating
of his wife and little ones
His old watch dog named Toby
was always running by his side
he was brindled and so skinny
that his ribs poked through his hide
His wife was tall and sallow
and wore her hair back in a bun
she always looked tired and dragged out
for house work and kids were never done
She cooked good food upon the wood stove
for which there always was a plenty
in all, there was the eight to feed
sometimes it was too many
Some times he'd bring home swamp cabbage
and they'ed cook a big old mess
and with a little hunk of fat back
well it was so good, for the Lord provids the best
They'ed go to church on a Sunday
if the circuit preacher came to town
but they mostly just took their troubles
straight to the Lord
for most times, the preacher wasn't around
Life was hard back in them days
for folks lived off the land
for if troubles came for one or all
neighbours always stuck together
to defend themselves
feet firmly planted in the sand
And for the folks who live in these here parts
well they do the best they can
for the simple Florida Cracker
is a hard working honest man
