Me and Samson
I would sit at his feet
When he’d rest for a spell
From his task of plowing
That looked like pure hell
Now his voice was so soft
And his manners were the best
Wearing overalls and brogans
With a huge muscled chest
Said his folks used to work
For some gentleman whose now passed on
When him and his brothers
Would always pick those pecans
The old man always halved them
He said with a big smile
And you know how it is boy
Cause you’re a little child
Ain’t nothing no better
When it’s pecan picking time
No matter how high up
One’s body had to climb
The crunch of that meat
Wow, it just drove me insane
And the meat was mighty tasty
If them trees got sufficient rain
He’d laugh and tell other tales
Then say, well time for work
And click his lips together
And give the reins a little jerk
Old George knew the routine
Lord that mule’s gotta be smart
And Samson the colored man
Would have another row to start
The old man had been doing it
Ever since time began
He said that was the reason
He now was just an old man
His smile showed missing teeth
But he really didn’t care
With salt and pepper shades
Sprinkled throughout his hair
And me right behind him
Bursting clods with my toes
As the sun begins to sink
At the end of the rows
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