Crawdad Pie

Written by: Charles Sides

A barefoot boy on an old dirt road
Kicking dust up as he went
His lips all puckered, whistling a tune
He was happy and content 

He carried a bucket by the bail
Had a cane pole on his back
And under his arm, all wrapped up tight
Was a burlap gunny sack

“Where are you going with all that stuff?”
I asked as he skipped on by
“I’m headed down to the Jack-Knife Creek
To catch Crawdads for a pie”