The hillbilly hoe down is in full swing
We are all trying to be crowned the king
We put up our dukes to everyone we see
Jumping into the fray is my Uncle Lee
I am pummeling my brother and two strangers too
One has a red face, the other one is kind of blue
My brother say “hey! I am your bro, you crazy boy!”
“That’s what makes us rednecks, what brings me joy.”
The hillbilly hoe down is held in the holler west.
I brought my own whiskey, my moonshine is the best.
Auntie tastes my barbeque sauce that burns off her tongue.
This hoedown in Tennessee is all kinds of fun!
Although
it’s a hard row to hoe
a rough furrow to harrow
and a tough trench to plough
there’s many a meadow to mow
I hereby avow
and tho' it may be news to you
farmers have the need
to sow their seeds
where milkmaids milk the cows
swineherds feed their sows
and shepherds have their pie
and eat it too
in Slough now
hllbilly hoe down
hard piece of straw in each mouth
bibbed overall dance
banjos and fiddles
potluck of fancy desserts
arkansas ham hocks
hound dogs on the porch
homemade corn liquor from gramps
square dancing parents
loud bluegrass music
pink taffy pull for the kids
toothless grandmothers
Faster than two ducks
slick on the street or what
Wet on the Street or what
wet tires on a motor
Mothers on a motor
the street or what
up the come up
in up nothing hoe
in all done up
hoe says she wants to be my friend
I love that hoe too.
Help with the difference
help me understand
If there was one
day I remember
more than others
is the day of mothers
and valentines
Battle lines, battles lost
Battles the Boss
Battle Eccentric
I like to interprut
I like to get into it
rubber nuts
burning rubber up the gut
the main street gets smoked up
big thrasher what are they after
the green light
At the Factor
In the Clean Night
The road is wet and Ive
I lost my sight
I cant fight the speed
Its Heavy Baby
two tons of Gravy
Suicidal and homicidal Behavious
Hit the Gas cause
the breaks will save her x2
She aint late she,
Be there Later, riding
street in squat reliefit dont knock its a beast
It just Knocks the street
In the corner of the room, you slyly creep,
With your two cents ready, promises to keep,
A dime-store detective, prying in my space,
You're such a penny hoe, you never leave a trace.
Whispered conversations, you twist and you weave,
Like a spider in the shadows, never wanting to leave,
Why not rub those two cents together with glee,
And let that gossip churn like a stormy sea?
With a wink and a smirk, you dive right in,
Making sense of stories that you'd never been in,
Your curiosity's boundless, a relentless itch,
Oh, darling, you’re such a nosy little witch!
Why not take a step back, let the silence breathe?
Instead of peeking over, like a thief in the leaves,
Every little secret you prickle and pry,
Painting tales on the canvas of night’s quiet sky.
So here's to the moments when you choose to refrain,
To hold back those cents, stop pouring out your rain,
Just for a second, let my life be my dance,
And spare us the drama, give peace a chance.
2024
My garden plots my demise
Haunts me like a living soul
The care I give is appreciated, yet expected
Each time I weed takes a toll
When it's time to prune
All hell breaks loose
The clods grow stones to throw and wound
The ears of corn hear all that I say
They stalk me, following every which way
The sly potatoes sprout eyes to spy
And the others sharpen their spears to slay.
As I sweat with tools through the rows and rows
I hear the whispered names they call
I know the slang they use , ( crying, "hoe!")
Meaning a loose woman and I'm appalled !
Daddy potato head was using his hoe in a wicked way
Chopping up parsley and rhubarb, throwing it past Monday
Tuesday did not like it, it is shriveled and dried up he said.
Daddy Potato head did not realize he was making them dead.
Daddy potato head was using his hoe in a wicked way
Chopping up parsley and rhubarb, throwing it past Monday
Tuesday did not like it, it is shriveled and dried up he said.
Daddy Potato head did not realize he was making them dead.
If I'd a hoe,
in frozen Maine or Idaho,
I'd go on raking,
shivering and shaking,
all over this land.
I'd go reseeding after weeding
Brother, though your heart is aching,
and the field work is back-breaking,,
We've got to go on raking.
Sister, strengthen us by baking
Singing children, join the chorus.
The seven dwarfs are for us.
Uncle Sam and Santa Claus
cheer us on on without a pause.
Hoe, hoe, hoe!
hoe poe hops, listens
long needle beak plunges in
fresh grub breakfast
It is a hoe down the fly told the titmouse
Where though? I only see one house
It’s invisible, but there are clues, I think.
It’s under a mushroom whose inside is all pink.
They searched together, but never found the party.
I’ve got an idea said the titmouse, whose name was Hearty.
Let’s host our own party and invite the fey and fireflies bright.
Great idea! The testy fly said, “This plan feels just right!”
11-year-old farm hands
David J Walker
What do the city kids do
In the summer
We
The 11-year-old farmhands
Don’t know
All we know is
Which end of the hoe
Goes into the hard ground
And which end will blister
Our hands
Contest: Warrior Sonnet
Sponsor: John Lawless
September 15, 2020
Petrarchan sonnet: abbaabba cdcdcd
Song of the Humble Scythe
My fellow men at arms, today we fight!
Courageous men of fields, that left the plough,
our foes have come; you hear their drums, but now
our storm will wet the soil with crimson might!
Your kin are scared to die, but hope is bright!
We are this wall of stone; you will not bow,
to foreign hands, nor foreign lands, and now
we raise the battle cry for what is right!
Take up the plough — that tills the Fields of Fate!
Take up the hoe — that weeds your earthly foe!
Take up the fork — that throws their bales of hate!
Protect your seed — that needs your love to grow!
The field is yours! The Field is yours! Now great,
we war with tools our fathers made to sow.
The crow rejoiced in the field today.
Husks were popped open with maize showing through.
Crop was up, smiling in her special way.
There was so much corn, what could a young crow do?
He held a hoe down, invited twenty-two.
They danced their claws off; they were heard in hell.
Enough corn to keep them through the winter spell.
What I Should Do Is Have to Hoe
What I should do is have to hoe,
Up and down then row by row;,
And soil till;
Seeds spill;
Soon things will begin to grow.
Jim Horn
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.