Old Country Poems - Poems about Old Country

Walking down the old country road, Hand me down clothes in the bag. Clothes with holes, and tattered robes, There’s no worries in getting dirty We’ll wash away the dirt in the stream, Whilst you stand there, smiling at me. Sing the songs that nobody’s heard As we look above, at singing birds. We’ll sit in meadows, of golden bed, As we dance without...

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Long time! Long time ago I had not seen you Turned memories ... Of childhood Ah! Oh! Bless you! How old! So old Rare used Country road ...

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Ah! To be buried in an old English churchyard With the dark green ivy and wild roses Where the sweet nostalgic aromas hill the air And the church bells ring their clear tolls My soul with the LORD in heavenly glory While my aged weary body rests Under the soil of my ancestors in England or Wales- Sweet peace with trees and...

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Some pondered ways to pep-up the pulpit and pew, but disinterest and ennui won the day. The clergy went away to get help and never came back. Eventually, thunder and sleet cracked stone, spire, and gable; neglect, and the cold winds of time nibbled at arch and buttress. Where once was a stained-glass light, weeds and mildew weathered to a moldy rot. Where once the hems...

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I am drinking my sugary sweet pink grapefruit juice when I spy it a black something floating about It is waving to me. Yelling something. I fish it out and get a magnifying glass. I can see it is a spider now. It asks me to get it back to the old country. I don’t know which old country. It gives me a...

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I wandered down an old country lane A shadowy stroll into the past An old cemetery laid still in the shade A resting place at last Here, long ago, and old church had stood But some time past, had burned to the ground Yielding it's guardianship to the wood That had grown up fast all around Men, women and children interred within this...

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from the old country they came some of them would change their name the men be working the mines afterwards they'll drink fine wines factories would claim the rest and weekend meals were the best mom dad will teach kids values never mind singing the blues on Sundays church bells would ring and all the choirs start to sing for freedom is here and life is...

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Plain Old Country Boy Steve L. Siegel August, 2015 -:- I like the smell of clean washed clothes Hanging on the line, the sound of my blue faded shirts Snapping in the wind, my sun-bleached blue jeans All flapping against the bright blue skies. -:- To wake up with a breeze of an early morning...

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am from the south thats my rout am about soul i do have golds no doubt am reaching out i grew up with toy PLAIN OLD COUNTRY BOY...

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I remember a time when church was packed on sundays I remember a time when church was the place to be we need to seek God's will ,and practice faith more often Like they did in the old country church I remember a time when church would last for hours I remember a time when more than one would preach we...

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Wending my way down a country road in my air-conditioned car, In yon vale a weathered church steeple beckoned me from afar. 'Twas Sunday morning and the clarion peal of its bell caught my ear. There stood a simple House of God with a graveyard in the rear. My faithfulness in matters religious had never been that good, Since attending...

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The old country church where I used to go, As a boy back then, now those precious memories flow. I remember how sweet it was when my momma knelt right down, And the song they sang about someday receiving God’s own crown. Mrs. Murphy led the choir and she often sang so loud, And sometimes off key, but she...

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Once again driving down this old country road, days gone by, memories rolling back into my mind, stories my grand dad told me of this old country road. Putting along in his old roadster, stopping, for gas 19 cents a gallon, bring back those good ole days. Hot day like this...

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