Me and Samson

I would sit at his feet When he’d rest for a spell From his task of plowing That looked like pure hell Now his voice was so soft And his manners were the best Wearing overalls and brogans With a huge muscled chest Said his folks used to work For some gentleman whose now passed on When him and his brothers Would always pick those pecans The old man always halved them He said with a big smile And you know how it is boy Cause you’re a little child Ain’t nothing no better When it’s pecan picking time No matter how high up One’s body had to climb The crunch of that meat Wow, it just drove me insane And the meat was mighty tasty If them trees got sufficient rain He’d laugh and tell other tales Then say, well time for work And click his lips together And give the reins a little jerk Old George knew the routine Lord that mule’s gotta be smart And Samson the colored man Would have another row to start The old man had been doing it Ever since time began He said that was the reason He now was just an old man His smile showed missing teeth But he really didn’t care With salt and pepper shades Sprinkled throughout his hair And me right behind him Bursting clods with my toes As the sun begins to sink At the end of the rows