White Lightnin
It's a proud family tradition
Here in the hills of Tennessee
My grand daddy brewed White Ligntin
And my daddy, before me.
It's just Cornmeal, water and yeast
Brewed in the family still.
Them revenuers can't find the place
They probably never will.
Don't drink it down, you sip it slow
It kicks like a stubborn ole mule.
There's a reason it's called White Lightnin
Some folks call it fuel.
Copyright © Brian Lehnen | Year Posted 2007
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment