Redneck dad was determined to not like his daughter’s beau.
He was from the other side of the bush, the money side.
His parents were probably stuck up and would look down on him.
He did not say anything, but he was determined to not like Jim.
Jim walked in carrying a twelve pack of Redneck Dad’s favorite beer.
For you, he said.
Redneck dad almost smiled, but not quite. He did say “thanks”.
His daughter gave him a harsh look.
Oh, great, she was taking HIS side already.
The guy said “I hear you collect comics.” He handed him a good one.
Redneck dad was starting to bluster now. He was astounded.
It was one he had been wanting but had never found.
He smiled. Take off your coat and stay awhile, son.
Jim took off his coat; his shirt said “I do dumb things.”
Not so far thought Redneck Dad.
Rudolph had a brother, a redneck deer named Bart.
His nose only glowed when he would sneeze or fart.
Rudolph got sick; Santa had to call on his brother.
Bart came with pepper in one hoof and a can of beans in the other.
12/24/21
A Funny Christmas Themed 4 Liner Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
Will the King’s horses or any of his men?
Ever stack those turds that high again.
A tit for a tat and Rooty Toot Toot.
The rats always follow the piper and flute.
Old mother Hubbard was all out of bones.
So, Rover took off to find a new home.
Little Miss Muffet with her bowl slightly turned.
Blows on her soup so she doesn’t get burned.
Now what’s in that hat? Could it be bearing claws?
Or is it just that old elf taking a short pause.
Redneck Rhymes are sure fun to find.
You can polish a turd but those three mice are still blind.
This redneck creed
runs through my blood.
We won’t back down
come push nor shove.
This land is holy
to me and mine.
We’ll destroy all grapes of wrath
and every vine.
My brothers and sisters
it’s time to take a stand.
Let’s drain this swamp
and take back our sacred land.
Let’s set the eagle free
watch her soar and fly.
May our freedom bell ring
With every broken bone and black eye.
A spleen for breakfast or is it lunch.
I’m not quite sure your words aren’t much.
Beaten by a crayon’s mark.
Your fire died without a spark.
The writer’s block must have returned.
Speak up son you’re getting burned.
You’ve got some time with this pandemic.
You’re learning redneck academics.
Jumping Jehoshaphat’s! It is a down home true hillbilly hootenanny!
They are jiving and whirling, and the accordion is a twirling!
I run to find my square dance dress which no longer buttons.
My boobs are hanging out like Jane Russell’s but I do not care.
The cousins are in town, and with them that Arkansas whiskey humor.
Grandma is playing the jug, and Brother Willy is thumping his foot like a rabbit.
The hootenanny brings in all the neighbors and we begins swinging and sashaying.
The caller is screaming “toss your partner high in the air!” I get carried away.
Little Louie hits the ceiling and his head splits open. The cousins laugh.
We got a doctor in this house? More laughter. The caller keeps calling.
We keep dancing. Little Louie runs sobbing off to his mama.
She puts a couple of band aids on him and we all keep jiving. The cousins are here!
Rednecks and hillbillies having a war.
They fought and they spit and both were so sore.
It got bloody. There was much ugly gore.
We scratched and we bit just like the folk lore.
Cousin found gold and announced it to four.
Hatfield who ran off to find their own ore.
I scratched him and slugged him, this cousin so poor.
The rednecks ran off, as we hillbillies broke down their door.
So if you think the feud is forever over, and no more,
Remember we McCoys are as ignorant as we are poor.
We will be feud’n and fight’n, until we are sore
Or we chase that other family, for squabbles we adore.
REDNECK
Dr. Jim Martin
Redneck, they sometimes call me,
Though I do not understand why.
Simple is what some choose to be,
Instead of “pie in the sky”.
To stay at home and a quiet evening spend,
Instead of “painting the town”.
To not go after every modern trend,
To be content to just “hang around”.
Flashy clothes, I do not wear,
Overalls are my frequent attire.
For wing-tip shoes, I do not care,
Boots are all that I require.
“Old-fashioned” is another term,
That often to me is applied,
By those who choose never to learn
That “old” ways have not all died.
Being old - fashioned is not nearly so bad,
As many mistakenly think.
It is better far than holding modern fads,
That disappear quick as a blink.
Morality, truth, honor, respect,
Are some of those things not lost.
By those who will not be side-tracked,
By the modern day “new ideas” host.
Yes, I will continue to be “out-dated”,
And with bad accusations not care.
These many years I have waited,
Now, my label with pride I do wear.
This redneck is fixin' to go dancin'
You reckon we get gussied up and go?
I'll be a high flutin' and a prancin'
Is the honky-tonk puttin' on a show?
Shall I wear my fanciest clod hoppers?
Shall I phone all your fiddle playin' kin?
I am gonna be such a show stopper.
We shall enter the dance contest and win.
I've got a hankerin' for hot romance,
And some granny-slappin' hillbilly sex.
Bear ten younguns, live in 'ternity pants
Did you just skedaddle, my newest ex?
Dern it, Darlin', thought we were so well matched.
I counted my chickens before they hatched!
Written 3/2/2017
Entered in Mid December Premiere
Hosted by Brian Strand
the dust around him
he has not seen many things
the drunk redneck bull
his irony legs
both got a lick of work done--
cocoon of debris
I’m not a redneck, but in Georgia I attract them like flies.
They all have the best pickup truck that money can buy.
With heavy southern accents, they lay their line on thick.
Calling me honey and sweetie, which is refreshing to this city chick.
I don’t need a lot of money from the guy I choose,
I only ask for love and respect, and no short fuse.
I’m looking for someone to make my passion ignite when we kiss,
So these redneck guys in Georgia, I will not dismiss.
Redneck Car
my redneck car is no junk
eight cylinders, what a hunk
beer cans over the floor
to enter there’s no door
the back seat is sometimes my bunk
2/18/2016
Poetry Contest: LIMERICK CONTEST II - FOR FUN
Sponsored by: JAN ALLISON
Bubba's goat is baaaaad
It done gone and ate his shorts
Burps the abc's.
Copyright © Cynthia Jones
Oct.16/2005
I went and bought me some rabbits,
And built a rabbit coop.
Like that Cadbury Bunny has,
‘Cept I got me a group!
And they all’s gonna lay some eggs,
With nice milk chocolate shells!
But they won’t be no coco brown,
‘Cause I prefer pastels!
So I’m gonna feed them Fruit Loops,
And that should do the trick!
They’ll be poppin' out rainbow eggs,
I’m thinkin', pretty quick!
Then I’ll get rich like Cadbury,
And buy me a new truck!
Maybe breed all of them rabbits
With cousin Millie’s duck!
People’d sit up and take notice
Of a bunny that quacks!
They’d storm the Piggly Wiggly for
My multi-colored snacks!
We’ll have us a rainbow Easter,
With chocolate eggs and beer!
Drunk rednecks on a sugar rush,
Can really spread some cheer!
Buy some rainbow chocolate duck eggs,
Then turn on your TV!
There’s a new realty show,
Called Rab-uck Dynasty!
I should have thought of it sooner!
My problems are all solved!
Ain't nothing a redneck can’t do,
When there’s a duck involved!
You melt my butter.
You sop my gravy.
There is no other
like my redneck baby.
You're the frost on my mug;
the salt on my pretzel.
You really squish my mud.
You're the one I want to wrestle.
But if faithful, you're not,
or you be loose and fast;
not Cupid's arrow shot,
but mine, in your ass!
Love, Arlene
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