Grandpa's Fiddle
Grandpa was a very jolly fellow, so talented and so wise.
He could plant a row of corn as straight as the arrow flies!
He was a capable carpenter, never once hitting his thumb!
He built barns "'squar' with the world", never out of plumb!
He was very adept with fiddle and bow to everyone's delight,
Except for Grandma who thought the consarned thing a fright!
He'd sit for hours 'neath the ancient sycamore sawing away.
She'd heard the same tunes for sixty years, much to her dismay!
He was a good old-time fiddler, of that there was no doubt!
Why, he could've topped Roy Acuff should they have had a bout!
His nimble fingers flew as he played "Turkey in the Straw!"
Neighbors tapped their toes and listened to him in awe!
Summer nights we'd sit on the porch 'neath a Hoosier moon,
Listening raptly as he played a mellow and haunting tune.
He'd play a rousing "Orange Blossom Special" for the house,
Then switch to a beautiful rendition of a waltz by Strauss!
Grandpa's old fiddle is stilled now, it hangs upon the wall.
I suspect though that he's fiddling for the angels, saints and all,
As good old foot-stomping music from his golden fiddle flows,
And a bemused Saint Peter surreptitiously taps his toes!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
