Dad-Blame Politicians!

An ol’ cowboy once told me, “Son, keep yor’ Saddle straight— cinched up tight ‘n squared away, an’ don’t depend on fate. For if yor’ a straight shooter, yor’ life will be real tame. A handshake will be good ‘nough ta trust yor’ family name.” Now, I went along believin’ the whole world thought like that, but fifty years have come ‘n gone with politicians gettin’ fat! They get upon that barren stump, an’ swear to make things right, but what I know ‘bout them folks, makes me lose sleep at night. Empty promises an’ shoutin’ ‘bout things they’re gonna CHANGE— folks aren’t really thinkin’ how their life—they’ll rearrange. It’s all about the poor folks, minorities ‘n such— money from the rich guy, an’ taxes that ain’t much. But when I get ta figurin’ what will happen later on, like when factories an’ plants close, an’ rich guys are all gone— Who’s gonna pay the wages to feed my kids and ma? I ain’t forgot DEPRESSION times, an’ anguish that I saw. An’ derned if I can figure out why some folks are on the DOLE— Could it be a case a LAZY, an’ a life without no goal? If no one in DC’s lyin’, an’ the old ways never was, I guess I’d give ‘em latitude in their promises an’ buzz. But I been ‘round just long enough to know what’s right ‘n wrong— an’ I ain’t taken in so much, nor followin’ the throng. There’s one more thing I gotta say ‘bout EVIL in this world, “Ya don’t kill a grizzly with sweet talk, an’ screamin’ like a girl.” Men fought an’ died to keep us safe, an’ let our FREEDOM ring— that there’s the tune I’m followin’— the anthem that I'll sing! Tamara Hillman ©2008