A Bobby Bare Sunday Morning
I grew up with Country music
Loved its simple themes
It’s been my constant joy
For ever or so it seems.
Bobby Bare’s on the Bose
Singing a tear jerking song
And I’m sitting there listening
And quietly singing along.
Sunday morning session one
Of those times I like the most
Playing Country music
Belly full of buttered toast.
A working man’s music
From earthier days
Telling redneck tales
Telling redneck ways.
I’m a Yorkshire country boy,
A redneck farm worker’s son
Who was given the chance
To progress and move on.
No redneck work for me
No need to labour on the land
A chance give to me by
My dad’s work hardened hands.
The Sunday morning session
Helps roll back the years
And I think of mam and dad
Surreptitiously wiping tears.
Yorkshire red neck values,
From village childhood days
All come back to mind as
My Sunday Country music plays.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment