Oh, Moonshiner, man of the mountains high,
Where whispers of wind and wildcats' cry.
Your heart a kiln, your soul aflame,
With the secret of white lightning's name.
In hollows deep, your still does hum,
A symphony of steam, a hidden drum.
From fields of corn, a golden juice,
To fiery spirit, in silver cruse.
They call it 'stump water,' 'skullcracker,' too,
This potent elixir, born of dew,
A 'ruckus juice,' for joy and strife,
A taste of freedom, a taste of life.
You're a craftsman skilled, a master bold,
In the art of alchemy, stories untold.
With fire and patience, you coax it forth,
A spirit potent, of the mountain's worth.
So, raise a glass, to the moonshiner's art,
A rebel's brew, to stir the heart,
A taste of freedom, a whisper in the night,
A lightning flash, a fiery light.
Categories:
moonshiner, mountains,
Form: Rhyme
T’was a strange and spooky sight to see,
All that smoke risin’ above the trees,
And the tale some told made the heart jump,
“Rabbit’s cookin’ cabbage in the swamp”.
The smoke floatin’ o’er that muddy den,
From a moonshiner well known as sin,
His young’uns and kin stoked up the still,
Sold it as sure fire cure for all ills.
T’was a custom in that lowland swamp,
Long time-honored circumstance and pomp,
For a country hoe down in the barn,
Where yelling’ could start a fire alarm.
Gi’tar, Fiddle, Banjo, mandolin,
Jammin’ and singin’ with big ole grins,
Y’all come and eat some real redneck stew,
Dance bare foot but skip that cabbage brew.
Rabbit was cookin’ up his special brew,
Cause steam was arisin’ to the blue,
Git your madam and those dancin’ clogs,
Go stompin’ at mudtail’s wetland ball.
Categories:
moonshiner, fun, music, silly,
Form: Rhyme
Gonna wake up
At the brink of dawn
Take a shower
Throw my blue jeans on
The little red rooster
Is my alarm
Cock-a-doodle doodling
On my farm
Gonna water
All of my crops
Especially
My barley and hops
Gonna spread out
All the bales of hay
Where the goats and the horses
And the cattle stay
In the pasture
Down by the creek
Where we went
When we wanted to sneak
A little moonshine
I stole it from my dad
The best damn moonshine
That I ever had
Another moonshiner lives next door
and he's just one more of a total of four
They realize what they're doing ain't right
So they watch out for each other day and night
I'm gonna go
And see a little rodeo
Then I'm going dancing
To do the do-si-doe
Then I'll stop by
Over near the school
To jump in the river
In our swimming pool
Gonna get my little lady
A cold bottle of wine
And get myself a bottle
Of my dad's moonshine
Copyright © charles messina | Year Posted 2018
08022018PoSoupContest, 'Add A Stanza To My Poem', Charles Messina; 7th stanza incerted by contestant
Categories:
moonshiner, addiction, farm,
Form: Rhyme
Once a bald-headed man
was holding a can.
He tripped and went down
fell on his crown.
He had a massive sore
but was more than sorry
when he read this and
didn't like the way
that I wrote for you
his story.
Dorian Petersen Potter
Aka ladydp2000
Copyright@2014
10.11.2014
Categories:
moonshiner, funny, hilarious, hockey,
Form: Verse
I have adapted another persona to escape the real world...
when all around me shadows cover every tree,
and spotting the crescent moon, I don't feel bored
if thoughts for a poem pop up, then it's time to write away!
Have I become a moonshiner living through dark?
Is this strange person me? Up to now, I'm still a bit jittery having
to step outside and inhale a breath of fresh air.....
I may hear wild wolves howling, owls cooing and see bats flying
from the low shrubs of the deserted park,
and being too scared I would retrieve to my lair!
Family and acquaintances have noticed the changes in me,
I seem too distracted and paying no attention to them is silly;
all I think of is of words spoken by people as they walk too fast...
and watching their gestures, they show faces serene or mad!
How long can I act out the character I have created for myself?
Am I an actor or a real person living with a sense of reality?
Is this strange person me... missing out on life and not laugh?
Condemn literature for my insanity? But would I live without fantasy?
Categories:
moonshiner, dark, desire, poems, ,
Form: Rhyme
For all who have been wondering
I'm from the hills of Tennessee
I was raised a country boy
And as hillbilly as can be
My bathroom was an outhouse
And I lived on an old dirt road
We had no running water
And splinters on our comode
My Grandpa was a moonshiner
And I've smoked a corncob pipe
I've done a lot of hunting
And even tried hunting snipe
We kept our food in a smokehouse
And even had a chicken coop
Sometimes I had to go out there
And clean up all their poop
We had a lot of livestock
So we processed our own meat
And yes, sometimes in the summer,
I'd run around in bare feet
My neighbors lived down the road a piece
With no street lights to light our way
I walked home by the moonlight
But I knew it would be okay
Anyway, that's my story
So I know the hillbilly way
When you have those mountain roots
Then somehow you never stray
Categories:
moonshiner, funny
Form: Rhyme