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Turnip Greens

Yesterday times were hard.
In October '29.
The mills "cut out" depression came,
The economy declined.

Stocks fell down and rich men died.
Black Tuesday brought disaster.
They jumped from windows on that day,
Cause money was their master.

In the embattled south folks starved,
The barefoot masses cried.
Men rode the rails in search of work;
And honest people died.

But in the winter grew a leaf;
A bit of hope it seems.
It fed the simple country folk,
The noble turnip green.

It is a hardy little plant;
that can stand both cold and rain,
The more you pick the more it grows
The farmer was sustained.

You boil the turnip in a pot;
Accompanied by it's greens.
A little fat is also nice,
If it's within your means.

My Daddy lived a good long life,
And ate things fine and nice.
He had both steak and crawfish,
And also beans and rice.

But he was grateful to the thing;
That saved his life back then.
Turnip greens were more than food;
They were his dear sweet friend.

Somewhere there on heavens shore,
If these are things we know;
He's got a little patch of greens;
To watch, to tend, and hoe.

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