Hard Times

When I was but a small lad
Overalls to wear was all I had,
Faded patches over the knees,
Denim so thin I could feel a breeze.
I had no coat to warm against a freeze.

Daddy always did the best he could
Trying to earn a living chopping wood.
Mother kept the cabin we lived in clean
And fed us cornbread and pinto beans.
She hung flour sacks as curtains to be seen.

Dusty red clay was the floor we played on
And store bought toys we never owned one.
Daddy cut our hair with worn out clippers
While Mother spent time mending zippers.
Daddy's beat up truck was a “fixer upper”.

Hand me down clothes and worn out shoes,
Kids begging while Mother sang the blues
And Daddy chopping cedar for post all day
We lived like slaves it seemed the only way.
It seemed like Daddy never had any pay.

All us kids were taught right from wrong,
How to read the Bible and sing Gods songs.
Sometimes our faith in God was all we had
And how to laugh when hard times got bad.
Dwelling on those hard times makes me sad.

©Written by: Kenneth J. Ellison 11-02-03