Will There Be a Risin’ 3 Exile
Strange biscuits, no jelly, just ‘lasses,
Neighbor house, feather bed, no Ma.
At dark night carried and left here,
Scared. Being took off is lonesomer
Than Pat being gone forever.
“Misery walkin’ up Foggy Holler”
Is how Pa named the cat. Foggy
Came to town with me, sad, cause
He ranned away likety quick.
Guess I could go, if’n I had a mind.
No Pat, no Foggy, no Ma, no Pa.
Sunshine Mountain way gone.
Rattler brought on the last straw.
Pearl is fightin’ the Germans, so
Could I run away to Foggy Holler?
Strange neighbor lady did say,
Maybe just one more day.
“Good things hop up like crickets
On hot rocks. Just wait, you’ll see.”
Surprises nowdays are terrible bad.
But I’ll stay, better this misery
With a bed and biscuits, right
Now no Germans. Gotta watch
Close. They might creep in whiles
Grown-ups hang rattlers on the fence.
2 thoughts on "Will There Be a Risin’ 3 Exile"
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This is really great Bruce. I love the way you use this perfect dialect to conjure a tone both mysterious and of the earth. This is great poetry. Everyone should buy your book. Tell ’em I said so.
I love “Good things hop up like crickets/
On hot rocks.”