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OLD CRACKER HOME
It was sittin' in the sand hills
neath a tall magnolia tree
where the Southern breese vlew gently
and the saw grass grew wild and free
It had set perhaps a hundred years
well in fact I knew it had
for the house belonged to little Gran
the mother of my Dad
I remember white feed sack curtains
as they hung outside the frames
for in the wondows there ware no screens
no glass or window panes
I can see the dog trot running through it
toward the kitchen in the rear
and the clanging of an old spoon 'gainst the stir pot
was something good to hear
and the good smalls from the old wood stove
makes me hungry, I confess
oh, what I'd for just a plate of grits and gravy
and black bass, a big old mess
and the home made quilts she'd often make
from cloth pieces that she chose
they always had a special meaning
for she pieced them from our old clothes
The geraniums she always grew upon the porch
in pots of navy blue
where a titmouse made a nest every year or two
the cane grindings and the taffy pulls
that came each fall so true
and the butchering of the hogs and cows
which gave us meat the whole year through
And the chicken out on the old back porch
the roosters crowing in the morn
and the frogs that croaked at each dusk dark
made you glad that you'd been born
Daddy coming home from hunting squirrels
from way down in the woods
and with a big old string of wild ducks
goodness, they was good
Our yard was full of pure white sand
and flower beds that sat just every where
and there was the fruit trees in the back yard
the orange, the peach, the pear
I can feel again those old soft feather beds
where you'd sink almost to the floor
and the pillows filled up with duck down
Daddy had killed upon the shore
I remember the old red pitcher pump
sittin' right by Gran's old kitchen sink
and oh, it had the coldest sweetest water
and was so good whenere you drink
I can see a little screened kitchen pantry
where Gran kept her butter and her jam
with juicy water melon slices
that looked so red and grand
Well they've all gone now forever
but fond memories linger on
of the back woods of old Florida
and our small and Cracker home
