Sunday Dinner a Hillbilly Sonnet

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Growing up on a Kansas Dairy farm, it was my brothers' job to milk by hand 34-31 registered Guernsay cows twice a day, but on Saturday the extra job we had was to slaughter at least 6 chickens, because Sunday at our farm house was known for a fried chicken dinner, and there were always people just dropping in either because they loved Mother's Sunday cooking, or because they were not able to provide for their own families dinners and they knew we would have plenty to share. As a bonus, there were almost always some girls coming around, many of them older girls who taught me and my brothers a thing or two about what to do on a Sunday afternoon behind the barn.

SUNDAY DINNER (Hillbilly sonnet) Ma's cookin now, so come and set a spell and you can bet we'll have her Sunday best before the settin sun, and who can tell what's on her stove--but it will meet the test. Can't you just smell that fryin chicken now? And you must know the gravie's fresh and hot for pourin on them taters--I allow a little more than I should have--so what?!? The butter it just melts on bread so light to compliment the vegetables we grow, now if you know a life that's half as right as this, you'd better make it yours to know. And I will say the grace, to thank God for what He has give--so He will give us more. © ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet

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Joe Flach

Date: 4/10/2013 1:09:00 PM

Reminds me of the "Hey GrandPa, what's for supper" segments from Hee Haw. I enjoyed this. Thanks for sharing.