Pine Mountain Cemetery XXVI
Old Mose
Old Mose Howard swore he wasn’t going
To die. He ‘bout near didn’t either. He did
Agree to give into being lifted up if necessary.
Looking at his life you might say he was
Not too far from right. Look at the mighty clan
Trailing after that man and his many wives.
Seven of them, two left plumb disgusted,
Four died having yet another baby for the line.
The last one was too mean to do either.
She was his match even though only a kid
Of seventy, him being nearly ninety. Cooked
Nothing he liked and chewing took teeth, of which
He had very few and none of them met. Ran
For office and stayed a constable since the time
They fotched on that office from Frankfort.
“Ask Mose” was the standard answer to questions
Of theft, fence cutting or even taking another
Man’s milk cow. That well-polished gun and he
Settled most arguments without bothering the boys
In gray, the sheriff or those no-count deputies.
He kept the jail quiet and empty. The judge smiled.
Four songs he liked in church and if a daring
Soul squeezed in another, his cane would
Pound its way to the door well before the offering.
He was not above a bribe to get his way, handy
Tool. He always left a name tag on the bottle, just
In case you might forget to whom you were a owing.
At one time or the other he made every man jack who
Crossed his path jealous of his cunning and crass.
Mad or not they did line up when he had a job to do.
One hundred and three is a mighty age, but still not nigh
Enough to suit Old Mose. He lived to one o four just to spite
His hoard of kin traispin’ up his path finally to say goodbye.
It’s all right not to shed tears at this stone, he
Wouldn’t have thanked you if every drop was
Gold to pave his way to heaven’s promised gate.
Not many like him, thank goodness, but then if none
We would be right short of legends down-right good
To sing or tell about and wonder if they’re true.
