We no longer raise gardens, chickens and hogs
No more smoking chimneys, we now use gas logs
There's no more hog killings on Thanksgiving Day
Only turkeys and hams grace the tables today
We no longer carry water in for the night
There's plenty of running water and baths delight
There's no more sitting by an old oil lamp
A light hangs from the ceiling, an electric revamp
No more traveling preachers, a thing of the past
Big new churches, log churches are in the past
There's no more Store Truck making its way through
Like kids in a candy store, we stood like a statue
An orange and an apple used to be a Christmas treat
Now days electronics are the only thing that's neat
Keeping a milk cow and churning our own buttermilk
They now snarl their nose if its not store bought milk
There's not many clothes now blowing in the wind
We now have clothes dryers and washers that spin
No one takes time to visit their neighbors or the sick
My daddy's not here with his big walking stick
The canning and jelly making days are almost gone
Just a few old timers left to carry on
There's no one left to cure the thrash (Thrush) anymore
My mama's gone and her cure is no more
There's no more prayer and recess in school
It seems everything now has become man's rule
Those old aporns they wore with money tucked away
Is gone too, like their hair tucked in buns of gray
And those old time zinnas my grandma so loved
They now grace heaven with beauty and love
There's no more plowing with an old mule now
They use big tractors but that old mule sure could plow
There's no more hunting foxes, possums and coons
And sitting by a campfire listening to the dogs croon
That good squirrel gravy and dumplins I still smell
My mama sure could make them so yummy and swell
There's no more sleeping with six in the bed
With three at the foot and three at the head
And sweeping the yard with a worn out broom
Praying for some grass to grow really soon
There's no more swinging on those old grapevines
Or playing hopscotch in the sand with hand drawn lines
There's no more crawling through the barbed wire fence
Trying to escape the bull, we didn't have any sense
Playing in the cold creek was a summer time game
Claiming to fall in on a winter's morning wasn't the same
Going fishing at the old mill pond with fishing pole in hand
Losing track of time, the fishing was so grand
Helping mama find Poke Salad in the early spring
Climbing through the briars and snakes was her thing
Or picking creesy greens from the creek bank each year
Not knowing the difference with mama not here
Going to bed with the chickens on hot summer days
No time change did we have, we got used to the same ways
There's no more robbing the hen's nest in the early morn
Those old hens sure could lay, fed good with corn
Those wonderful old days I loved and once knew
Is now gone and the old ways too
The living was so good, the finest I've ever seen
I love to go back it makes my heart sing
© Susie Swanson, 2015
© Susie Swanson, 2015