The Spit and Whittle Club
The Spit & Whittle Club
As remembered: by Miracle Man
3-21-2020
As a kid it was always town on Saturday,
horses and wagons dotted our main street.
Tied to curb rings up and down Broadway,
then penny candy, was sometimes a treat.
Many had come to gin a weeks cotton,
and buy flour and coffee for another week.
Times back then would today seem rotten,
But that was life and times were bleak.
Worn out by years, older men would sit,
they did this having nothing pressing to do.
On a bench swapping yarns to whittle, and spit,
and think, at days end, how the time flew.
All older men needed was a plug of Brown’s Mule,
and a pocket knife, and of course a stick.
Tom
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