TWICE-TOLD TALE *
We was out diggin' in the cornfields,
End of a long, hot workin' day.
Last rays of a blood-red sun shone down,
Thowin' long, long shadders of the cornstalks
And the foddershocks on the ground.
It's a grand story!
He tells it lovely!
He come up quiet as
a pine snake,
And smiled, with a hard look in his eye.
"Get you to the preacher man," he said,
"'Cause it's time I'm rid o' ya.
Tell the preacher man you an' Widder Casey gon' be wed."
And what kind was
She, with an odious
She, the most hojous lookin' woman ever found,
With a gimpy leg and a blinded eye.
May the Lord strike me down to die
If she wasn't three hundred pound!
And did you hit him
"Go on now, get to it.
Go wed the wife I chose.
I got no use for layabouts like you."
"I ain't gonna do it.
Why all the county knows
That she done give me suck 'til I was two."
"Don't you purt off to me
Or I'll tan your worthless hide."
"If you try to make me
You'll be sorry that you tried."
And I raised my shovel,
He raised his hoe.
He said, "By God, you'll do it."
And I said, "No!"
So that's when you
With a wild cry he
Swung his level hoe.
Like a cat I skittered north
To dodge that terrible blow.
With a swift swing from the east
I finished off the job.
My shovel hit, and split him
To his Adam's apple's knob.
2009 by Peter Mills