W-1896IL-FPSG.doc
Foot Prints by Francis (Dawson) Knitig

Dedicated to all School Teachers Past, Present and
Future
”And departing leaves behind us Footprints
on the Sands of Time. Longfellow
Preface
Having taught 8 terms of rural
school in and around Decatur County KS, I hope these poems may bring pleasure
and remembrances to all who read them.
Two miles west and 1 ½ miles south
of Oberlin, where I lived since 1947, I can still see an old School house
standing, “District 28”, Addleman School House.
School was established there in a
sod house, April 23, 1880, wht the first term 12 weeks and 9 pupils
enrolled. The teacher received $20.oo a
month and board members were: Director, G.W,Husted; Clerk, Willard E. Ufford
and Treasurer, James A. Redd. The school was disorganized Sept 26, 1961, and
annexed with Oberlin District No. 1.
In my time, from 1890 until now,
schools were a part of the social life of the community. It was a good way.
ABANDONED SCHOOL HOUSE
There once was a little white School house
Out on the western plain
That keeps returning to my memory
Time and time again.
Just a little white cracker box
Thirty by thirty square
And many folks are still alive
That were “edicated" there.
When the Pioneers came to Kansas,
A determined stubborn breed,
They decided that a school house
Was the first important need.
Without much learning of their own
The most of them would say,
"To educate our children
We are going to find a way."
Old timers will tell you
Of that first school house so bare
Just a small dug‑out
With logs for a chair.
Then next they built a Soddy
With windows, stove and desk.
And the children came from all around
To do their very best.
Then with the Homestead Law
We found improvements close at hand
With a little white board school house
On every section of land.
To get teachers was a problem
They came from far away
And had to exist on
One dollar per day.
The school houses have disappeared,
All moved or else torn down,
And all the rural children,
Are taken by bus
to town.
We are glad to see the improvements
That Kansas has today*
And I am sure those determined pioneers
Were the ones who paved the way.
*****
She waited for his goodnight kiss
it seemed almost an hour
Then she finally decided,
He had lost his "Pucker Power”.
*****
Every little bit helps
And if you help yourself
You aren't very likely
To be laid upon the shelf.
OLD MAID
SCHOOL MA’ARM
The old maid school Ma’arm,
You must have known a few,
Without the old maid school Ma’arm
What would the world do?
in the early days the teacher "ruled the roost"
From morn until night
With a watchful eye on every one
To see they did just right.
She traveled to the schoolhouse
Sometimes a mile or so
At, eight o'clock each morning
To make that old stove glow.
The children, then began to come
All cold and shivering, too.
She unbuckled over‑shoes
and wiped their noses, too*
She must have had a guidance
And strength from above
To give so many children
Education, pride, and love.
She had no children of her own
But her love poured out to all
And every one was happy
As she came again each fall.
It wasn't Just the A B C’s
They learned from her each day
She taught them love and courage
And even how to pray,
And tho the most of them are grown
I'm sure you will hear them say
We will never forget our teacher
Tho, they buried her today.
*****
“Blow ye winds over the ocean
And blow ye winds over the sea".
But don't blow that fried hamburger odor
Across from the restaurant to me.
*****
The rooster awakens early
He awakens you early, too
You would sometimes like to thank him
By making a rooster stew.
HOMESTEADER
He didn’t want adventure
And he had no greed for gold
He wanted a home for his family
And land he could have and hold.
So he built a Prairie Schooner
The bows the very best.
Then loaded his family and household
And boldly started west.
Few were the towns to enter
Along this lonesome trail.
At night they listened in terror
To the lonesome coyote wail.
Sometimes the campfires were smothered
For fear of Indian attacks.
They knew there were many dangers
But they did not dare turn back
So they reached the Land of Promise
And began to turn the Sod,
No money in his pocket
But a lot of faith in God.
The covered bows were a hause at first
Then they started diggin‑in
And soon they had a dug‑out
To shield from storm and wind.
There were no trees nor lumber
In this desert prairie land.
They plowed the sod and shaped it
To build a house by hand
And soon they had a Soddy
standing firm upon the land,
They planted crops and garden
On which the grasshoppers seemed to thrive,
But by sheer determination
He kept his family alive.
And to these old Sod‑busters
Who paid the price in sweat,
We owe them love and honor
And may we never forget.
*****
The roses of summer have faded
Their petals have fallen away
And the reds and pinks of their life blood
Will moulder and turn to clay,
*****
The absent minded golfer
When his coffee break began
Thought he would finish with a doughnut
So he ordered a "Hole in one".
*****
Unkind words can pierce the heart
Deeper than an arrows dart.
SHEEP HERDER
On a lonely hilltop meadow
The sheep herder guards his sheep
Lonely, watchful, patient,
His vigil he must keep.
For danger is ever present,
A vicious sneaking thief,
A wolf, a wary predator,
Can make a lamb's life brief.
The nights are wild and stormy
And sometimes very cold.
So the sheep must be gathered together,
And, sheltered in the fold.
Tonight a storm is brewing
And he hurriedly brings them in.
He counts as, he drives them into the fold.
Oh! That little black sheep is gone
Well, he wasn’t
worth much anyway.
The storm is gathering near,
He will just have to get along
Till morning light is clear.
The herd is quietly resting now,
So he lies himself down to sleep,
But troubled dreams keep coming.
As he thinks of that little black sheep.
Baa, Baa, he keeps hearing the echo,
That poor little jamb is lost.
Then he rises from his pallet.
He must find it at any cost
Stumbling thru rocks and caverns,
Brambles and briers tear his feet.
There in the muddy cavern
He finds the little black sheep,
Gathering him close in his arms
With joy he returns to the fold,
As if the little black lamb
Were a precious piece of gold.
And so it is with the Savior
Tho His lambs be black or white
He wants them brought into the fold
To shield and keep them right.
*****
If you count the blessings the Lord has sent
You won't have time for discontent.
*****
It's good to let the sunshine in
Whenever you go about
But while you are letting the sunshine in
Why not pass some sunshine out?
*****
A little song of gladness
Can banish a lot of sadnesst
PEACE AND WAR
In the stillness of the morning
When the air is soft and cool,
We enjoy the peaceful quiet
Here beside this rippling pool.
And we think how mother nature
Planned each leaf and tree and flower
That can bring us peace and happiness
To enj oy every hour.
Do not take your blessings lightly
They can all be swept away
And joy and peace and happiness
Be shattered in a day.
In the stillness of the morning
In a land so far away,
You can hear the cannons rumble
At the breaking of the day.
And the war and, devastation
Flows like rivers o’er the land.
And the little children tremble
For they cannot understand.
May the power on high bring mercy
That would make the slaughter cease
With the hopes and prayers of millions
For an everlasting peace.
SONNET ‑ WILD ROSE
Wild rose, wild rose,
Growing free,
There beside the heather
Giving joy to all who see
In all kinds of weather,
Cast your perfume on the air.
All, your friends abound
Smiling at your face so fair
Many gather around.
Feeding butterfly and bee
From your bounteous store,
Where will all your beauty be
When the, summer is o’er?
Say good-bye to summer, then
But promise to come back agan.
*****
If you are killing yourself to get riches
I am sure we have all heard it said,
If you kill yourself to get richs,
What good will they do when your dead.
*****
If the tree is crooked to begin
It will have many a crooked limb
If a man is crooked in what he has done
We may have many a crooked son.
WILD LIFE
There once was a “Home
Where the buffalo roam
And the deer and the antelope play.”
But dure to man’s greed
And a bullet’s swift speed
There is not much wild life left today.
Bears, beavers and buffalos
Once people knew.
But not they can only
Be found in a zoo.
The little jack rabbit
That hopped o’er the plains
To present day children
Is only a name.
"Destroy the coyotes"
The ranchers all cry,
"Or much of our livestock,
Must perish and die."
These all, are God's creatures,
He meant them to roam
So please don’t destroy them
Preserve them a home,
HOME REMEDIES
Back in the days long gone
When Doctors calls were few,
To drive to the nearest town
It took a day or two,
So each housewife would replenish
Her cupboard more and more.
She filled it up with remedies
She bought at the nearest store,
She also had a doctor book
That told you what to do,
From snake bite to child birth
And chills and ague, too.
We all had to gather around her
In the early Spring,
For a dose of Sulfur and Molasses,
Kept your blood from, getting thin,
Coal oil and turpentine
You rubbed it on your chest
With a flannel rag to cover
For the croup it was the best.
The sassafras tea was for chills it is true
And a hot mustard plaster
Was best for the "flu",
Onion syrup made for coughs
Brought much relief from pain.
Then rub the chest with skunk oil
To keep the warmth within.
And then there was another cure
If you really want to brag
To keep off all diseases,
You wore an assofetida bag.
Tho we couldn't go to a Doctor
All of us seemed to thrive
And mother's home remedies
Must have kept us alive.
HIAKU
Aspens shivering in the moonlight
Light criminals waiting
For the ax.
Dew on pink rosebuds
Sparkling like a bride's tears
Of happiness.
TEMPTATION
Stay away from temptation
And the worldly things that please
For many a mouse has lost his head
Because he smelled the cheese,
In these days of high cost living
The guy who raves and rants
Had better tighten up his belt
Or he may loose his pants,
BLACK BIRD
Black bird, Black bird
Flying free,
above my big old cherry tree,
Whether saint or whether sinner
You want to get a cherry dinner,
I can share some if I try
But I’d like to make a cherry pie
I am, not selfish, I declare
But your shouting fills the air
And I think you, are there to stay
Till all the fruit is gone away.
I will tell you what I will do,
There's enough for one or two
So take a few, or may bedozens,
But please don't invite
All your black bird cousins,
*****
Some people grab at the things of life
As though they really need it
But they should learn if you milk the cow
You also have to feed it.
SNOW
The harsh cold winds of winter
Leave everything bleak and bare.
The world is covered with dullness
No beauty any where.
The flower and vegetable garden
Are an ugly compost mound
The golden leaves of autumn
Lie mouldering on the ground.
Wherever old man winter breathes
He leaves a blackened trail.
And brown and drab are the colors
You see on woodland vale.
The grass on lawns and meadows
Have never a blade of green
And the climbing rose on the trellis
Is only a summer dream.
But at last the snow came softly
In the middle of the night
And the world was covered with beauty
For God painted everything white.
MEMORIES
Memories are a closet
Where you store the things you knew,
All the days of happiness
That happened as you grew.
Thanksgiving and Christmas
You stored away to keep.
But in your closet you never would put
The things that made you weep.
A busy day at the sea shore,
A shopping spree in town
Friends with gifts on birthdays
You stored thank all around.
And when you are feeling lonely
And want, to enjoy them more
There’s a closet full of memories
So just open your closet door.
TOO OLD TO CRY
A little boy of just six years
Broke a toy and burst into tears.
"Hush" Mother can fix it bye and bye,
And you are much too old to cry."
They huddled on the football field,
The hard fought game they had to yield.
Tears of defeat dimmed every eye.
How old is too old to cry?
I saw a hunter in, the grove,
He shot and killed a mourning dove.
I stood a while to watch it die.
How old is too old to cry?
*****
If you eat plenty, of square meals
I have recently found
If you eat too many square meals
You will find yourself getting round.
STYLES
1870 First came the corset, made of bone and steel
When someone laced it for you
It almost made you squeal
Then camisole and bloomers
Made of cambric fine
Then three starched petticoats,
One at a time.
Ten yards of calico or a little more I guess
To make mutton‑leg sleeves
And a fancy ruffled dress.
High top button shoes and
gloves of leather brown.
And my Lady Fair was ready
To saunter down town.
1970
A Bee‑hive hair do
And a Mini shift dress
Is about all that's needed
In present day dress.
A yard or so of material
will do for any height
And a pair of nylon panty hose
And you are dressed just right
Freedom of movement
She may swagger a bit
And doesn't have to worry
If her clothes don't fit,
THE SIMPLE LIFE
I never had lands a plenty
Nor sailed on a distant coast
But the things the Lord has given
Were the things I wanted most.
There are castles in Spain to dream of
And land that is fair to see,
But a quiet home in the valley
Is good enough for me.
I never cared for music
That runs in a Classical strain
They play for bards and barons.
My tastes are very plain.
I love the simple melodies
with rhythm soft and free
And the simple strains of home Sweet Home"
Are good enough for me.
I never cared for fancy clothes
They show in the window case
That fit the ladies of fashion
That stroll from place to place.
But the clothes I like are simple and fine
For any one to see
And a calico dress and an apron
Are good enough for me.
I never cared for fancy food
Prepared by chefs so fine
For caviar and lobster
Prepared in rich red wine,
Just give me the food the farmer raised
And a simple pot of tea
And a good old bowl, of ham and beans
Are good enough for me.
LIBERATED PERSON
Don't call her, miss nor mrs.
But simply say MS.
For the way we all pronounce it
It sounds like she is a “mess”.
CHILDHOOD
There is a grassy meadow
On a hill not far away
And the dewdrops sparkle on it
At each early break of day.
And the wild flowers blooming on it
Oft bring memories to me
Of the happy days of childhood
When I wandered there so free.
Just a little band of barefoots
Brothers, sisters, one and all
Tromping barefoot thru the grasses
From the early spring till fall.
Gathering strawberries from the hill top
And the huckleberries too
Always seeking an adventure
Finding something ever new.
We could see the robins building
Nests high in the apple tree
But we knew we must not tamper
For the frightened birds would flee.
Soon the blue eggs would be hatching
As we watched them day by day
And our hearts would flutter with them
As they hatched and flew away*
Oh, the summer time of childhood
Kept us happy as could be
As we watched the many wonders
In each flower and bird and tree.
But the childhood days pass swiftly
And the cares of life begin
And the memories that linger
Cannot take us back again.
For the road that leads from yesterday
Is just a one way street
And once you travel over
You can never more retreat.
HUSH‑PUPPIES
The kitchen stove was burning
And the skillet very hot.
When mom called us for breakfast
We were "Johnny on the spot".
From the aroma from the kitchen
Of hot grease in the air,
We knew that Hush‑puppies
Was on the bill of fare.
Mom had mixed the dough the night before
And let, it raise an night
To have it ready for breakfast
It had to be done just right,
Then from the Pan of dough
She would Pinch a little bit.
It had to be a certain size,
To in the skillet fit.
She had to watch them very close
So none of them would burn
Then passed them out to us
As each one waits his turn.
Served with black‑strap molasses
They really were a treat
And for just simple eating
Hush‑Puppies can’t be beat.
With those Hush‑puppies being passed
You knew just what to do
And when old Rover gave a bark
We Just tossed, him one too.
NURSE
The tall white structure
stood silently silhouetted against
The moonlit sky.
Light blinked from every window
But even tho the building looked so firm inside
Inside was activity and turmoil.
Pain and sorrow, grief and tears,
and there were smiles and laughter, too.
White uniformed nurses pushing here and there
carrying hot water‑bottles
fever thermometer; hipo needles;
anything to ease the pain, given
with smiles and encouragement.
"Your baby will be all right dear."
"Yes, you may have a drink of water."
"You must get some rest tonight."
"Your husband will see you tomorrow."
How can they carry the burden of so many ills?
Rushing, ever rushing, her head swims,
she feels herself fall over a 50 ft. cliff,
and reels to the floor, unconscious.
The nurse is ill, who will nurse the nurse?
NEGLECTED CEMETERY
On the outskirts of the city
Alone and covered with grass
Is a lonely unkempt grave yard
All unnoticed as you pass.
A few of the graves have markers
But most are flat and bare.
Long gone are the friends and relations
Who with sorrow placed them there.
No kith nor kin remaining
To tend or remember now.
Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters
Alone in their sepulcher.
And the sights and sounds around them
Are silent, as death at dawn
And their secret rest is guarded
By the moon and stars alone,
The sun shines down on their silence
Above are the bright blue skies,
But when Gabriel blows his trumpet
“They, too, shall arise.”
DAY DREAMS
What are day dreams made of?
Little boys and little girls
Happy faces and golden curls
White clouds sailing in the sky
Wild geese flying swift and high
Purple sunset at e’ens; glow
Wild flowers growing row on row
A birthday cake and a new blue dress
A letter filled with happiness
Fathers and mothers to love and care
Brothers and sisters with all to share
The growing up of happy youth
The thrill of seeing a babes first tooth
Companionship when your hair turns gray
And a happy golden wedding day,
Time to sit and rest in the shade
And you have a dream that will never fade.
PICTURE POEM
A
Tree
Is old as
Noahs Ark, with
I’s leaves and limbs
And roots and bark It
Swings and sways and rustles
Its leaves and whispers love songs
To the breeze. The birds may, nest in
its
Branches high, that
always point up to the
Sky. And little children play around, in
The shade that falls upon the ground.
I
T
S
R
0
0
T
S
Go down into fertil ground
A tree has many things to give
If, only man will let it live.
*****
If the job is too hard
And you think you can't do it
Just roll up your sleeves
And hop right to it.
*****
To raise a child correctly
Is quite a task t’is true
But a child will learn his lessons
From what his parents do.
HOPE
I fought with my grief and I conquered
Through sorrow as bitter as gall.
It wasn't a trial of disaster
Nor a case of winner take all.
Out in the fields and meadows
As I: watched the winds at play
I found a sweet, contentment
That chased the fears away.
For life is too short for moping
And holding a grief to your breast.
For the God given things we cherish
Are the things we should love the best.
If the billows, of sorrow roll o’er you
Look up to the hills and see,
That hope makes you better and wiser
For a life that is true and free.
*****
Its easy to form a habit
Without a bit of fuss
But soon we find the habit
Has over taken us.
CHARITY
Did you help the weary traveler
As he stumbled down the road?
Did, you say, a word of courage,
or help him lift his load?
The weary ones that pass this way
May not return again.
Did you give him a smile and a hand clasp?
If you did, you did it for Him.
Did you help a fallen sister
Who had strayed and drifted afar?
Did you offer love and kindness
To help a fallen star?
Did you make an offer to help her
To turn from the paths of sin
With only a smile and hand clasp?
If you did, you did it for Him.
Did you visit a lonely widow
So weary bent and alone
As she sits in an institution
That some people call a home?
Forgotten by those who loved her
When life was full of vim
Did you give her a smile and hand clasp?
If you did, you did it for Him.
AUTUMN
When the wild geese fly southward
And the leaves turn brown
And they bid good‑by to summer
As they flutter to the ground
And the sun dried cornstalks rustle
As the winds cane sweeping by
And the pumpkins all turn yellow
In the corn field where they lie
The gardens and the orchards
Have their harvests gathered in
And there is jelly in the cupboard
And ripe apples in the bin.
The bob‑white whistles gaily
At the early break of day
Then you know that old man winter
Is not very far away*
*****
Of the things that’s hard to take
It’s to open your mouth by Mistake.
ASHES OF ROSS
Sing me a glad song
Never a sad song
Life is too short to spend in retreat.
Life can be cheery and Merry
Ashes of, Roses still may smell sweet.
Was it, a highway
Passed by a by way
Maybe you missed with the boat sailed ,away
Look, to a new day
Never a blue day
Ashes of Roses still smell sweet.
Yesterday's kisses
Nobody misses.
Still the world turns
As the afterglows meet.
Love lasts forever
Nothing can Sever
Ashes of Roses still smell sweet.
SOME FOLKS DO
Some folks like to own a car
And speed down the highway by the hour
Whiskey and beer on the side
It’s not safe for others to be outside.
If they kill someone without intent
Some say it I was just an accident.
Some folks do.
Some folks like to live in style
Go to cocktail parties all the while
Fancy clothes and beer and wine
Seeking pleasure all the time
Spending money left and right
Turning daytime into night
Some folks do.
Some folks go to church and pray
And live the Gospel every day.
They help the weak and cheer the strong
And try to live right all day long.
And while they work and till the sod
They take time out to worship God
Some folks do.
IT'S A BEAUTIFUL WORLD
"It's a beautiful world" sang little Nell,
as she fashioned a small mud pie,
"With it's flowers and birds and rivers
And a beautiful bright blue sky.
I can run barefoot in the meadow
Where the violets heads are curled
And gather the wild strawberries,
It's a beautiful, beautiful world."
"It's a beautiful world" said the farmer
As he arose at the break of dawn.
"I must feed the pigs and milk the cow
And hurry to plow the corn."
Then he gazed at the morning sunrise
With all it's colors unfurled,
"With the sun and rain for the crops". he said
'It's a beautiful, beautiful world,"
'It's a beautiful world", said the
convict
As he looked through the prison bars.
"There's a beautiful world out there
With it's sun and moon and stars.
But I chose a life of vice and crime
Nor stopped to consider the cost
It's a beautiful world", he whispered,
"What a beautiful world I have lost."
BLANK VERSE
What is a poem?
Wings beating against the brain
A thousand word birds clamoring for release
Bursting from their prison
Soaring to the height of
Immaculate Conception
Suckled on love and hope
Reverberating like thunder in the mountains
Sweeping across the stratosphere
As a prairie fire consumes dried grass.
Spent out,
Descending to be chewed up
By a type‑writer then spewed
Out on a sheet of white paper
In an agony of Labor Pains.
FIRST LOVE
My first love was a handsome man
With blond and curly hair.
With manners rather fancy
Some called it debonair.
My first love sent me Valentines
All decked with hearts and flowers
And vowed a true devotion
Through sunshine and through showers.
My first love took me dancing
Upon the village green
With his strong arms about me,
I felt just like a queen.
I've had a happy marriage
With blessings from above
And my husband here beside me
My first and only love.
BIRDS
Oh, the skies are full of music
And the world is full of cheer,
When you hear the happy warblings
Of the birds both far and near,
The dove is cooing softly,
And the robins song is gay,
The mocking bird sings many songs
Throughout the live‑long day.
The red bird whistles bold and loud
For everyone to hear.
And the blue‑bird sings of happiness
In the springtime of the year.
And now, the clearest song of all,
If you will listen, Hark!
It is the joyous music
of our own gay meadow‑lark.
We find that as we look around
There seems to be so few.
The chemicals that kill the weeds
Are killing wild life too.
We must save these little creatures
And all the joy they bring
Or we may awake some morning
to just a "Silent Spring".
ARMISTICE
1918
Nineteen hundred and Eighteen
Many remember that date I ween.
A war of “blood and tears and sweat”.
How can anyone ever forget
The sacrifices and the lives that were lost,
Brought many countries a terrible cost.
On the eleventh hour and, month and day
The news came ringing o’er the wey.
The war had ended, the peace complete.
The crows all gathered in the street
Singing, dancinq, "Hurrah" Hurrah!”
This was the end to that bloody war.
Up and down the streets they roam
With welcome, when Johnny came marching home.
And yet there were tears on that happy day
For those who were buried so far away.
You can change the time and date; but yet,
'Those who were there will never forget
And the eleventh month and hour and day
Will live in the History of the U.S.A.
Last trip to the moon, 1972
There they go into the unknown yonder
Up through the bright blue sky.
It was a beautiful "cast off”
Watched by many an eye.
Was it for science or was it for greed?
Explored by seventeen,
As spectacular an excursion
As any one ever had seen.
"God created the heaven and earth"
And they provide our light
And the sun still shines by day
And the moon gives light at night.
If there is another purpose
It's secret may never be known
And the foot‑prints they made upon the moon
Will soon be dust alone.
"Shine on Silvery moon. Shine
Along Lovers Lane". And perhaps
Curious men won't molest you again.
PICTURE POEM
Time
The clock on the
mantle was clicking
away, as I awoke at the
break of day. There were
many things that I planned
to do before the hours of the
day were through. So I
swept and
baked and
scrubbed the floor
and cleaned my
house of many
a chore,
I
F
T
I
M
E
H
O
L
D
S
through. There
are deeds of kindness
that I must do. There’s
a friend in town I plan to
meet and a little sick boy
down the street, a letter to
write to dear Aunt May, and
a lonely widow to cheer today.
But time passes swiftly
and before I knew
Time ran out
and the day
was through.
*****
If you could see yourself as others see you
A thing thats hard to be
If you see yourself as others see you
You wouldn’t believe what you see!
FOOT PRINTS
Foot prints here, foot prints there
Little boy's foot prints everywhere
Mother watches to see where they go
Little boy's foot prints in the snow.
How they grow and how they play
Running growing every day.
In and out the kitchen door
Leaving muddy foot prints on the floor
Chide them not for you can know
Little boys grow and grow
May leave childhood all too soon
Making foot prints on the moon.
*****
I tried to keep up with the Joneses
I tried as hard as could be
Then I finally heart that the Joneses
Were trying to keep up with me.
SUNSET
The dear Lord gave me a calendar
Filled with the days of life
I knew that the days of my calendar
Would be filled with both joy and strife,
The childhood days flew swiftly
With no knowledge of care or woe,
No responsibilities, just to
Run and play and grow.
The grownup days brought duties
And tasks that need to be done
Worries and undertakings
Arid victories to be won.
As I mark the days on my calendar
Each one brings faith anew
And a feeling of sweet contentment
That will see me safely through.
The calendar days are passing
The sunset glow I see
And I pray the dear Lord will be waiting
With a "Welcome Home" for me.
***O***
Short Grass by Francis (Dawson) Knitig
SODDY
Now a soddy was a mansion
If you lived in days of old.
It sheltered you from blizzards
And kept out the winters cold.
It didn't take much lumber
And it didn't have much class
But they built it strong and sturdy
From mud and buffalo grass.
They plowed the grass in rows
Then cut it up, brick size.
Then plastered the bricks together
And soon your house would rise.
The walls were thick and heavy
And the windows kept out gloom
And when the family increased
You would add another room.
But there was one drawback
The varmints liked it too,
And when they wished to enter
They would burrow right through.
You found snakes beneath your pillow,
And rats nests in your drawer
Not to mention all the centipedes
That crawled across the floor.
They told about a woman
That used to live out there
She awoke one morning
With young mice in her hair.
Living in a Soddy
On the Western Plain
Listening to the wind blow
Hoping it will rain,
Almost like a desert
Even at its best,
Makes you often wonder
Why you ever came west.
TELL TAIL
A duck is a female
A drake is a male
You can tell which is which
By the curl on his tail.
RURAL
SCHOOLS
The name is almost forgotten
And the little school‑house, too.
They don't educate the children
In the way they used to do.
There were schools through out the country
Where everyone could go
And sometimes children had to walk
A couple of miles or so.
Inside the building was a stove
You fed it night and morn
You had to get it very hot
To keep the children warm.
The drinking water was a chore
As everyone agrees
They carried it in buckets
from the nearest family.
The outdoor toilets, very old
Where oft we had to go
Were pretty ragged looking
And often filled with snow.
We had things rugged then
But, it's plain to see today
That progress changed a lot of things
In an educational way,
But I would hate to lose the memory
And the learning that I gained
From that little white school‑house
On the Western Kansas Plain.
THE HORSE AND
BUGGY DAYS
They didn't have the highways
And they didn't have the cars
And they didn't talk of visits
To Jupiter and Mars.
But if you had a buggy
And a horse with quiet ways
A young man was very lucky
In the horse and buggy days.
He would call upon his sweetheart
His heart was swelled with pride
And hunt a pretty shady lane
And slowly take a ride.
He would slip one arm around her
And a well trained horse sure pays
When you'd like to do some courting
In the horse and buggy days.
But now the way they rush around
You wonder when there's time
To do a little courting
And say, "Will you be mine?"
Oh, you wouldn't like the dancing
Or all the modern ways
If you'd ever been a courting
In the horse and buggy days.
WHEAT
"Give us this day our daily
bread"
A prayer we say each day
But there is more to a loaf of
bread
Than just a prayer to say
In ancient times the sickle was
used
To cut the wheat by hand
And only small fields then
Could be seen across the land.
But progress came to help them
With harvesters quite new
And wheat was cut more easily
And the fields grew larger.
too.
Then next we bad the header
And barges all horse power
Five men at least were needed
And worked for many an hour*
Elmer manned the header
Bert and Brownie worked the
barge
Will, and Claude drove the
second barge
To make a five, men crew,
And the women in the kitchen
Had a lot of work to do.
Uncle William was the stacker
He built stacks wide and high,
He knew just how to build them
To shed both wind and rain
And we never lost a bushel
When William stacked the grain.
Well, now the fields are larger
Custom cutting can be done.
Three combines cut a lot of wheat
That work from sun to sun
And when the storm clouds gather
And just rush a little more
Soon the precious wheat is cut
And safely in the store.
So cut with custom cutting
Or any way you can.
That daily bread causes a lot of work
Before it is in the pan.
A GRAND‑DAUGHTER'S QUESTIONS
"How many beaus did you have, grandma?
I'd really like to know,"
I tried to summon up the past,
"Well, maybe there was Joe."
"How many lovers kissed you, grandma?
I bet there were a dozen or so."
"Well", I answered, "I don't remember
But probably there was Joe."
Visitors come, suitors go,
An old flame dies away,
And memories grow very dim
Of things of yesterday.
But thru all the years of happiness
I'd like to have you know
The one thing I've remembered
That, there was always Joe."
COW CHIPS
Dad would harness up the horses
To the wagon large and strong
Then call to all of us children
Who had to go a long,
We always seemed quite ready
And never tried to shirk
For Father said it did kids good
To do a little work.
Now to find the pasture
Where 'the chips by millions lay
We would toss them in the wagon
To save for winters day.
"Look Out, Elsie, that's a wet
one,
Better leave it lay
And we will come and get it
On another sunny day.”
Well, soon we took our trophies home,
And stacked them firm and neat
Assured that this would be enough
To supply our winters heat.
We used them in the cook stove
And they made 'the heater glow
0h, those cowchips did a lot of
good
When cash and fuel were low.
WILD BILL
He wasn’t Wild Bill Hickok
But he acted like the same,
And no one ever knew him
By any Other name.
He worked for all the neighbors
And arose at early dawn
But. his
favorite Occupation
Was, in winter, husking corn.
He heard about a fellow
Who shucked eighty bushel a day
He vowed he would beat that record
Or lose a whole month's pay.
So he loaded up his wagon
Bill Brainard was his boss
He hoped the measurement was true
He didn't want a loss.
They had Joe come and measure it
His measurements were square
Joe said, “It's eighty bushel,
And a couple of ears to spare."
Well, you'd think with all that labor
To sleep he would take a chance.
But No! He slicked himself up fine
And rushed off to the dance.
Well, he entered in quite boldly
But everybody knew
By the way he seemed to stagger
That he’d had a drink or two.
"May I have this dance, Miss Eileen?"
"You may not, sir," she said,
"There is whiskey odor on your breath
And your face is flushed and red."
So he went outside the building
Unknown to his pals,
And ate a big old garlic bulb
Say's he, "I'll fool those gals."
So back he came to dance some more
As happy as a clown
But to his consternation
All the ladies turned him down.
"What is the matter, Joe?", he said
"I seem to have a curse."
"Well," said Joe, "That whiskey smell
was bad enough,
But the garlic is even worse!"
50 YEARS
Fifty years together
Down the path of life
He. my handsome husband
I, his sassy wife.
We got along quite nicely
Till election spoiled all that
For I was a strong Republican
And he was a Democrat,
Our daughter shrank, in terror
When the arguments began
But somehow stayed quite neutral
And never entered in.
But it must have been a 'hardship
I will agree to that
With a mother,, a Republican
And father a Democrat.
"Why don't you read the papers?
You know that guy is a crook!”
"Well, if he gets elected
How funny you will look."
He thought that he could change me
With kindness and caress
But I was born to be
A Republican, I guess
If I could live life over
And change in nothing flat
I would probably go marry
That same old Democrat!
AUNT LIB
Her name was Elizabeth Baker
We all called her Aunt Lib.
And you would have been surprised
At the things she said and did.
She knew all the Irish superstitions
From Donegal to Cork,
For her parents came from there
And settled in New York.
She was 3 times married
And had children of her own
But with her nieces Laura and Daisy
She often made her home.
All the younger generation
Had to watch what they were about
For she told some dire prediction
If they didn't watch out.
If a dog howled at midnight
No matter how far away
She said someone was sure to die
Before the break of day.
Don't cut your baby's fingernails
Was her strong belief
For if you do, your baby
Will surely be a thief.
When you young girls
Wash the dishes,
Don't spill water from the pan
For that's a sure sign you'll wed
A whisky drinking man.
If you want a complexion very gay
Wash your face in the dew on lst of May
If your hair pins fall out
As they often do
That's a sign your sweet‑heart
Is thinking of you.
Don't walk under ladders
Or throw wish‑bones away
And black cats bring bad luck
Any time of day.
All of these and many more
She told us seriously
But somehow tho she frightened us
She taught us bravery
And tho we can't forget her
And the things she said and did,
I'm sure we were better children
From knowing Auntie Lib.
TRIBUTE TO MOTHER
The days of homemade bread are o'er
But still a memory stays
Of a mother working for her brood
Back in olden days.
Mother working, planning,
After we had gone to bed
We could hear the table squeaking
When mother kneaded the bread.
Six dinner pails she had to fill
And men folks two or three,
Milk, bread and butter are a must
With those you will agree.
She mixed yeast in the morning
And let it rise all day
Then worked the batter into it
In a very special way.
But it never was quite ready
Until the rest were all in bed
And we heard the table squeaking
When mother kneaded the bread.
Well, homemade bread days are over
And mother is laid to rest
She always tried in every way
To give us all the best.
In memory still I hear her
After all had gone to bed
And I hear the table squeaking
As mother1kneaded the bread.
STITCHES OF LOVE
Oh, silly woman, there you sit
You knit and knit and where do you get?
"Where do I get? I'll tell you this
For my first great‑grand child I am knitting a kiss,
There's caps, and bootees and sweater and shawl
And love and kisses knit into them all
There's dreams and ambitions in every row
And someday his mother will tell him so.
So I'll knit for my loved ones
And I hope they know
There is love and best wishes in every row."
A SHORT‑GRASS PIONEER
Way back in 1896
The fact is now well known
There came a bright‑eyed baby boy
To the Will & Daisy Brainard home.
They said he is a handsome baby
As over the crib they bent
"Why he might even someday
Be a president."
Of course all parents think that way
But it seldom ever comes true
But there were many other
things
This handsome lad could do,
Claude knew he’d be a farmer
As the other Brainards had
And they all knew how to till the soil
Especially his Dad,
Claude may have sown a few wild oats
When he was young and proud
But after he married Rista
Such things were not allowed
He met, and married Rista
In the year nineteen one nine.
And everyone was happy
And thot the match was fine.
Six children came to bless their home
I'll name them all to you,
Dorothy and Kenneth were the first
Then Clarice and Marjory, too,
David and Larry came later
They, thot them quite a treat
And smiled with satisfaction
Their family now complete
There are 10 grand children
And someday may be more,
And at present great‑grandchildren
Number all of four,
Well, 50 years have rolled around
Since they were joined together
And many hardships they have known
And fared all kinds of weather.
But still their steps are lively
And still their hearts are gay
And all of us will wish them well
On this anniversary day.
And tho Claude is retired from work
And lives the golden rule,
You cannot blame an old man much
If he just plays pool.
MIRACLES
I have planted a garden
And felt the thrill
Of dropping the seed in each little hill
I have seen the tall trees bend in a storm
But they always straightened by early morn.
I have heard the birds sing high above
And I know their songs are songs of love
I have seen the rainbows shining bright
And I know God's promise keeps us right
I have seen a Babe in a crip so small
And I know that is the greatest miracle of all.
DREAMING
I dream of the snow capped mountains
I dream of the lofty hills
I dream of the beautiful rivers
And the rippling stream of rills.
I dream of the streets of Paris
And all the castles of Spain
And Egypt and Italy becon me
They are lovely in sunshine and rain.
I dream of the mighty Pyramids
And the seven hills of Rome
But they are only dreams, for I am very glad
To be right here at home.
RIDING O'ER THE PRAIRIE
Riding o'er the prairie
with an oxen team
Hitched to a Prairie Schooner
Seems just like a dream.
Slow they seemed to travel
Almost like a snail
Roads were rough and bumpy
Just an Indian Trail.
Many a hill we climbed
Many a river crossed
Hardships were endured
And even lives were lost.
Still the faithful oxen
Dragged our heavy load
Pushing ever onward
To find a smoother road.
The bumps
and all we suffered
As over
the fields we roam
Was worth
the price we had to pay
To find
our prairie home.
Riding O'er the prairie
If I had my choice
I'd rather cross the prairie
In a Rolls Royce.
LOST LULLABY
“Oh, I have a song in my heart,” she
said
They asked her to sing,
But she shook her head
But late that night in the darkened room
They heard her hum a low sweet tune
A baby’s lullaby.
The years sped by and the maiden wed,
"Oh, I have a song in my heart,” she said,
"There is a dear little heart beeting close to mine,
And soon I can hold him all of the time
And I’ll sing him a lullaby.”
The months passed by
And at last there came
A night of agony, fear and pain.
When morning came there only lay
A little body of lifeless clay
No need for a lullaby.
KEYS TO KANSAS BEAUTY
(2nd place award in Garden Club
Contest)
If the door was locked on beauty
And you couldn't find the key
And only ugliness prevailed
What a sad world this would be.
So take a swing through Kansas
I am sure you will confess
That the Key to Kansas Beauty
Is the Key to Happiness.
THE UNCLES
They were just three bachelor brothers
Who lived a tranquil life
They all could cook and clean and sew
And didn't need a wife.
There were many things they worked at
That are not done anymore
Such as homemade bread and hominy
And sauerkraut galore.
Their gardens were the finest
With never a flaw or weed
They canned and worked together
To supply their winter's need.
But they had a special talent
Of cooking Navy Beans,
That none of us could equal
Nor imitate, it seems.
When the family gets together
And reminiscence means
We always end up talking
About the Uncles' home‑cooked beans.
A GREAT‑GRANDMOTHER
Oh. many months I waited
It seemed just ages long
To hold my baby within my arms
And sing a lullaby song.
The time of waiting ended
Within my arms she lay
My darling, brown‑eyed babe,
I thot, "This is my greatest day."
My daughter grew and married
The years just seemed to fly
We gave her away in marriage
To a young man, true and fine.
Her time of waiting also came
A baby girl was given.
So sweet, she really seemed to be
A precious gift from Heaven
I looked upon her fondly
Her face so sweet and gay
And whispered softly to myself,
"This is my greatest day."
Well, time rolled by as all things do
And little grand‑daughter grew up, too.
She chose her husband when quite young
And they have a family now begun,
They brought the news one early morn
A little boy had been born.
I bowed my head a prayer to say,
I knew this was my greatest day.
STAY YOUNG
All work and no play,
Makes you old before your day.
THE FLAG
I gazed upon the lovely flag,
Our flag for many years,
And many things it brought to mind
Of wars and blood and tears.
The white was like a lovely dove,
The blue was like the sky
But in the red I saw the blood
Of those who had to die.
Oh, may the land it stands for
Be true and strong and brave,
And wave forever o'er the land
So many died to save.
SAPPA VALLEY
"The Great American Desert"
At one time it was known,
The Indians, deer and buffalo
Were all who dared to call it home.
Then Fremont, 1847; Bryan and others
Came in 1858
And many a traveler tried his luck
And many met their fate.
But soon the lines were established
And settlers came to roam
And soon the rugged pioneers
Began to build a home.
If we in Sappa Valley knew
The perils they met galore,
The Indian Raid in 1878,
Makes us love it more and more.
We see the plains and rivers,
And the fields of waving grain,
But do we ever realize
It was won through strife and pain?
So here is to our forefathers
Who came to pave the way
And gave us Sappa Valley
Where we will always want to stay.
PIONEERS
They rolled across the prairie
They crossed the burning sand
And that's how our fore‑fathers came
To reach the Promised Land.
They drove the heavy oxen
That oft their patience tried
And the women walked beside them,
And the little children cried.
"Go back! Go back!", the women cried,
'We will never reach our goal."
But onward, ever onward,
They made those wagons roll,
At night they crouched in terror,
When they saw the Indian signal fires
And they knew the Indians watched them
From the lofty mountain spires,
There were days they had no water
There were nights they had no rest
But like haunted soul so they wandered on
To seek the fabled West,
And many died along the trail,
Their deeds of valor done,
But thank God, some of them
made it,
And that’s how the West was, won.
SUNFLOWERS
On January 29th, this land became a state,
That's why when every year rolls ‘round,
We try to celebrate.
We've had a lot of battles,
And we've had a lot of woes
But we love our land and country
Where the sunflower grows,
We love the Kansas sunshine,
And we love the Kansas rain.
We like the way the farms reach out
With fields of golden qrain.
There are many other places
Where they claim there is more room
But there is no place like Kansas
When the sunflowers bloom.
When the, sunflowers smile upon you
And the whole world seems just
great
Then you are glad to know you
are living,
In the sunflower state,
JUST CAUSE
When the world is torn and bitter
No one knows just what to do
And all eyes are lifted upward
To our own red, white, and blue.
Can we promise peace and comfort,
To a ravaged country's prayer?
All the world turns to old glory,
They must find the answer there.
Let us carry high the banner,
Let us lead in freedom's race.
And we hope that war and conflict
Never more can find a place.
That our flag protects our freedom
And our hearts and all our land,
Then the world will know our purpose,
When all patriots take a stand.
KANSAS
(Parody on "Home on the Range")
In this great nation's heart, there's a place that's apart,
From the seasides of noise and glare,
On the Great Western Plains, with its ripe, waving grains,
There is plenty for all and to spare.
Home, home on the prairie.
Where the land and the air are so fine.
Where seldom is heard a disturbance or cry
And the earth under my feet is mine.
You can see the clear streams where the bright sunlight beams,
And the meadow‑lark sings his sweet call.
For this great western land with its bright gleaming sand,
Has life, love and freedom for all.
When the stars gleam at night, and the wheat fields are ripe,
And its gold waving color you see.
Then you breathe a soft prayer, on the cool evening air,
“Please, God, may she always be free."
ASTRONAUTS
On Christmas 'Day I heard a prayer
come floating down from Heavents air
And as I listened I knew those three
Were very near eternity.
We clasped our 'hands and prayed below
Their safety, only God could know.
But God had surely heard their cry,
And brought them safely from the sky.
REQUIEM FOP, A SOLDIER
Just a soldier dying,
On the cold hard sod
Where is the red‑cross wagon?
where is the mercy squad?
Comrads all, around him,
Dead and dying too,
Fight until they get you
That was all they knew.
Blood flows down the mountain
Like an ocean wave.
No one reads a sermon;
No one digs a grave,
Breathe a prayer to Heaven
For his soul’s release.
Breathe a prayer to Heaven
may he, rest in peace,
Just a soldier dying
On the cold hard sod,
Where is the mercy wagon?
Where, oh where, is God?
SEVEN-LEAGUE
SHOES
Sometimes there's a game to play,
When the sun sinks low at the end of day,
I sit on the porch and gaze to the west
And think of the places I like the best.
I pretend I have league shoes to wear
They will take me traveling without paying fare.
Well, I’m on my way, se here I go
To Lorado, the gate-way to old Mexico.
There's a donkey cart, and an adobe
wall
And Papaya trees that grow so tall,
So I'll eat tortillas and dig in the
sand
And look at the cactus
And say "How grand!"
But my seven‑league shoes soon take me
away,
To another land lore the break of day.
From a dugout canoe in Central Brazil
I watch them pack coffee down from the
hill
The mountains and rivers I would see
In the Andean countries
To interest me.
And I'd gaze on the beauty of hill and
plain
And wish I need never go back again.
Then away to the Island of Hawaii,
My seven‑league shoes would carry me
Where sugar cane grows and the maidens
fair
Weave leis, with blossoms in their hair
And I'll lie on the beach at Waikiki
And watch the ships sail out to sea
Then after wandering and after I roam
My seven-league shoes will carry me
home.
When I get there I will open my eyes,
And look at the prairie,
And look at the skies
Then I’ll wonder why I should roam
When there’s so much beauty right here
at home.
GOOD EGG
When you go fishing
And tumble from a boat,
Be sure and have your life vest on,
Because only bad eggs float.
NOSTALGIA
(by permission of Jean’s Journal)
I stood on
the blanks of a beautiful stream
And watched the waves roll by,
Though but a child, it was plain to see
The beauty of sea and sky,
The little brook, said in a
babbling,voice
"Come hurry along with me,
There are flowers and birds wherever I
go
And beautiful, things to see.”
So I
hurried along through my childhood days
Only hoping to grow
And see the things that grown‑ups see
And know the things they know.
But after my childhood days were gone
And grown‑up days were here
I knew that the happiest days of all
Were those of my childhood years,
For the days slip by and the years are gone
No matter how much you yearn,
And the happiest days of all are lost,
"Down the river of no return."
JUST SNOW
Beautiful snow they call it
Three foot deep on the flat
You plow thru the stuff
And if that isn't enough
It even gets "under your hat."
HOW FAR IS
GOD
Living in the valley
Tilling of the sod,
Sometimes I wonder
How far I am from God.
There are stars to guide you
Listen while they say,
"Faith will bring you closer,
Heaven's not far away.”
Man is only human,
Heaven is broad and blue
And there is always someplace
With joy shining through.
If I could climb that mountain,
Away up to the peak
I'd be so close to Heaven
I could almost hear God speak.
TWILIGHT
"Twilight and evening star,"
So the poem goes
Life and its brevity
Nobody knows
But a wise master
Governs it all
Sending sweet slumber
When the dews fall
Now comes the starlight
The evening is late,
Each little love bird,
Sings to its mate.
Reach for God's blessings
As the dews fall
God in his mercy
Sends rest to all.
PROFILE IN BLACK AND WHITE
A little black boy sat under a tree
And he was as sad as sad could be.
His little white playmate, who lived next door
Could not come to play with him any more.
He had heard the boy's mother say quite clear
"I don't want that nigger boy hanging around here."
So he tried to play in another lot
But nasty looks was all he got.
Shunned and neglected all the time
At last he decided to turn to crime.
So he robbed a bank in a very small town
And a big policeman shot him down.
His mother and father stood by the bier
Their eyes red and swollen from many a tear
His mother sobbed, "He would of been all right,
If the poor little fellow had been born white."
REEL FUN
Oh, I like to go a fishing
When the air is soft and cool
Take my rod and reel along
When there isn't any school.
I'll set upon the grassy bank
And dream the hours away
And though the fish refuse to bite,
I've had a perfect day.
ALL WET
A little blue cloud
Sailed high in the sky
I didn't care, it passed me by.
I sat and dreamed
'Neath a big oak tree
Then the cloud came back
And spilled water on me.
DEAR SANTA LETTER
I hate to write this letter
But I was bad today
I scattered all my toys around
And then I left them lay.
And I played marbles with a boy
You should have heard him bawl
Could I help it when we played for keeps,
Because I won them all?
And then our little pussy cat
With fur so nice and soft,
She looked so hot and bothered,
I went and cut if off.
And when I found a wooly worm
Beside the wagon wheel
I gave it to my mother,
You should have heard her squeal!
Now, Santa, when I am very bad
And wish to be forgiven
I kneel right down beside my bed
And pray to God in Heaven.
So when I see you, Santa
If you'll forgive me please,
I'll walk right up and give you
A great big kiss and squeeze,
P.S. I love you. Susie
WISH I KNEW
Wooly worm, wooly worm,
Wish I knew what makes you squirm.
Happy frog, happy frog,
Why do you jump onto a log?
Robin gay, robin gay,
Wish I knew just what you say.
Wise old owl up in a tree,
When you say "Whoo Whoo”, do you mean me?
Katy‑did, I know you, too,
But I don't know what it is you do.
Where do flowers go when they die,
Does God take them to the sky?
People say don't break the rule,
You'll learn all that when you go to school.
ORPHAN LAMB
"Baa” is the
cry from the little sheep,
Is it from hunger or fright?
But that is the music the sheep-herder hears,
From early morn ‘til night.
Now this little lamb is an orphan,
His mother is cold and dead,
We will have to take him indoors
And feed him and make him a bed,
All night long we will tend him
And never consider the cost
For we would be unhappy about it
If one little lamb were lost.
So sleep little woolly baby,
Your master watches high
He will feed and care for you, always,
And listen for your cry.
They are all so dumb and helpless,
You never can tell them apart,
But there is something about an orphan lamb
That touches the strings of your heart.
A NAUGHTY STAR
Dear little stars way up yonder,
Winking and blinking so gay,
God must have told you we need you,
For candles to light our way.
At eve I sit and wink at you
And you wink right back at me,
Thanks for your light so very bright
It keeps me company.
I saw a little star fall last night
It made me feel so sad,
I guess God pushed it out of Heaven,
Because it was very bad.
TOO TOUGH
Well, I got me a gal in Alaska
She was sweet, but I thot what's the use,
So I just walked away and left her
That pesky gal wouldn't eat moose!
DARWIN'S THEORY
I got me a gal in Hawaii,
Her manner I thot rather rough
She said she thot man sprang from monkeys,
And that I hadn't sprung far enough.
NO LAUGH
“’Tis easy enough to be pleasant,
When life flows along like a song."
But the one worth a fig,
Is the one who can jig
When the Income Tax bill gets too long!
MODERN WOMAN
A woman is pretty, a woman is fair
And a woman is proud of her lovely hair.
But time respects none, and some bright day
She will find that her hair has turned to gray.
The shock is often hard to bear,
For her crowning glory has been her hair.
In front of the mirror, she will stand and pout
And savagely pull the gray hairs out.
"My fair young lady". I said one day,
"Across your temple is a hair quite gray."
"It doesn't matter at all," she said,
"I will get me some dye and color it red."
ABOUT THE WHISTLE
When the whistle blows at seven,
It’s time to rise and shine.
You yawn a bit and stretch a bit
And know you're feeling fine.
So what's the use of laying
Like an errant sleepy head
When the whistle blows at seven
Who wants to lie in bed?
When the whistle blows at 12 o'clock
You know it's time to eat
And all the hungry people go
Rushing down the street.
The aroma from the kitchen
Seems to drive away the gloom
And it's time to ask the blessing
When the whistle blows at noon.
When the whistle blows at 1 o’clock
You hurry back to work
It doesn't do a bit of good
To sit and try to shirk.
So gather up your burden
Pretend you're having fun
For you know the day's half over
When the whistle blows at one.
When the whistle blows at 6 o'clock
You hurry home to rest
And you get a pleasant feeling
As the sun sinks in the West.
You just sit in your easy chair,
And never care to roam
For that 6 o'clock whistle
Always brings you back home.
When the whistle blows at 10 o'clock
It's curfew and alarm
You gather all the children in
To save them from all harm.
We couldn’t do without it
For the, children know it's best
Wben the whistle blows at 10 o'clock
It's time to go to rest,
So let us keep our whistles
There's comfort in each sound,
And the man that blows the whistle
Is the guardian of the town,,
SAD OUTLOOK
The table was groaning with goodies,,
And everyone smiling and gay
But I just couldn’t help thinking
Of the hash to be eaten next day.
NO U‑TURN
Over and over again,
No matter which way, I turn
A policeman gives me a ticket
He must think I've money to burn,
TO DIET OR NOT TO DIET
I use a “crash diet".
I: follow the text
I diet on one day,
Arid crash the next.
WHAT PRICE WILD LIFE?
When God created animals
He expected them to roam,
But when he gave us children
He hoped they'd have a home.
He said, "Send the little one to me."
He meant both large and small.
How can we refuse them
If there is no room for all.
If you weigh them in the balance,
Which ones should it be,
God's helpless little children
Or the deer that runs so free?
So please, Mr. Commissioner,
Let us have our orphan's home,
I am sure those children need it more
Than the animals that roam.
KEY TO BEAUTY
A key can open many doors,
To walk through with delight;
And we can learn to love and live,
with every lovely sight.
The flowers in the meadow,,
The little birds that sing;
Ohl Aren't you glad God gave the key,
That gives us everything?
GRANDMAOS GARDEN
I always found a place to dream,
In grandma’s garden,
I loved the flowers and trees so green
In grandma’s garden.
The. hollyhocks so stately tall
I scarcely could see above them all
They stood like guards against the wall
In grandma's garden,
Oh, many times I lingered there
In grandma's garden,
The evening breezes breathed a, prayer
In grandma's garden.
When that sweet lady passed away,
The flowers all seemed to nod and say,
"She placed us here, please let us stay,
In grandma's garden,"
RENDEZIVOUS WITH SPRING
Watching the snow thru the window
Wondering what it will bring
Waiting, only waiting for
My rendezvous with spring.
I'll hear the. birds In the tree tops
I'll know the songs they sing,
For they, too, are always waiting
For a rendezvous with spring.
Bird calls, love calls
Sunshine. every where
All the flowers will blossom out,
Arid perfume fill the air.
Mother nature calls me
Give your troubles a fling,
Come and join the happy throng
In a rendezvous with spring,
GARDEN GOSSIP
Oh, the tulip told the lily,
And the lily told the rose;
Now the rose can't keep a secret,
As everybody knows.
So she went and told the pansy,
And the pansy knew quite well
She could tell it to the daisy,
'Cause daisies won't tell.
DANDELIONS
Oh the dandelion! The dandelion!
It makes the shivers go up your spine.
Now if I seed you and you seed me,
Would that be reciprocity?
But listen, neighbor, to what I say,
For sure we can find a better way;
Just use your spray and hoe and digger,
And those dandelions won't get any bigger.
And if all us work like a jolly fellow,
We can keep our town from "getting yellow".
And when people pass through and look around,
You'll hear them say, "What a lovely town".
NEW MEXICO
Have you ever felt the briskness
Of the air at early dawn?
Have you ever seen the dewdrops
Shine like diamonds on your lawn?
Have you ever stood knee‑deep in flowers,
That f ill your heart with pride
And seen the misty clouds roll by
Like a veil around a bride?
Then you gaze up at the mountains
That seem to reach the sky
And listen in the evening
To the lonesome coyotes cry.
There is beauty in the rivers
That run so clear and deep;
And the angler will be waiting
Where the gray trout lies asleep.
If you ask God for a blessing,
Full of beauty that will grow,
Then you know the only answer
Would be New Mexico*
GOD’S GOOD EARTH
Dear Father, give us grace to see
Beauty in every flower and tree;
Help us to make our homes abound
With love and beauty all around.
We will plant our gardens row on row
But only you can make them grow.
Beauty for all, our plan will be
For friends and who may come to see.
And when God gives us rain and sun,
What joy, to hear Thy words, "Well done",
NO SNITCHING
Don't snitch in the kitchen
Don't snitch in the hall;
Or you'll never be able
To loose weight at all.
HOW DO I KNOW
How do I know that you love me,,
How do I know You’ll be true?
How do I know there’s a, Heaven,
With the beautiful stars peekin' thru?
How do I know that the love‑light
I see in your eyes doesn’t lie?
How do I know that the tomorrow
Will bring up the sun in the sky?
How do I know that the robin
Will find him a mate in the spring?
How do I know that the eggs in his nest
Are what makes his little heart sing?
How do I know that the roses
Lift up their heads for the dew?
I only know where ever I go
I shall find heaven with you.
BLUE VELVET SKY
They measure love by depth of sea
And the height of sky above.
I wonder just how far it is to you, way up above?
When I see your velvet blue, I dream of many things
Blue diamonds and candle‑light, and bells and wedding rings.
Blue velvet sky, here am I. Sitting by the river
Waiting for my love.
The world is full of happiness
And you're so blue above,
Wonder why your little stars
All blink and seem to say,
"Do not be discouraged
For love is on the way."
Blue velvet sky,
You helped me find my lady love
And soon she will be mine.
So light your little candles
And tell the moon to shine;
Blue diamonds in the window
And wedding bells to ring,
You helped to make our dreams come true
Your praises we will sing
Blue velvet sky.
ANSWER TO "CRY OF THE WILD GOOSE"
I awoke this morning and raised my head
And found this feather beside my bed.
I had heard the wild goose honk at dawn
And I knew e’er morning you would be gone.
I had clung to your arms the whole night long
I thought I could hold you, for my love was strong.
But whether it blows or whether it snows
I knew you'd go when the wild goose goes.
For a man must be free and a man must roam,
And not tied down by the chains of home.
A woman doesn't gaze at the skies above
But must fill a home with things of love.
A gander will love and fly away,
But a goose loves one 'till her dying day.
So when you return, if you ever do,
I'll feed and clothe you and love you, too.
And I'll not be sorry that I turned you
lose
For I'll be the mother of a
Young
-- Wild -- Goose.
COYOTE ROUND UP
Well, hurry and get ready
And bring along your gun.
Today is the coyote round up,
And we are going to have some fun.
Yes, fun for everybody
But the coyote, I guess;
For he will have a merry chase
Or a death race, more or less.
They plan to cover four sections
And man each section line;
The coyotes have to move into center,
If everything works just fine.
Four captains then are chosen
To keep things in control,
They herd the coyotes inward
To the center of the goal.
Joe took the muzzle‑loader
It was the only gun he had;
It wasn't very up‑to‑date,
And had belonged to his grand‑dad.
The powder and shot were in it,
Enough to kill a bear;
So Joe just waited there in line,
He knew he would get his share.
Five coyotes in the circle,
Now everyone on his toes;
One headed for the right
And they knew that one was Joe’s.
"Wham!” went the muzzle‑loader,
Joe knew just what to do;
But Joe went rolling backward
And the coyote tumbled, too.
The whole gang stared in horror
And not a word was said;
They really thot it was the end
And Joe and the coyote both were dead.
Well, Joe got up and shook himself
And the, coyote did the same,
Then the coyote started
running,
They saw that he was lame.
They, couldn't let him get away
So Lawrence took a chance,
He put another shot into him
That really made him dance,
Well, Lawrence got the coyote
And Joe got only pain,
.But he vowed the next coyote hunt
He would try his luck again,
But he surely learned a lesson,
And learned it very well;
When you fire that old muzzle‑loader,
It can blow you clear to ‑‑‑ Nebraska.
DESERT SUNSET
Have you ever seen the sunset,
Sink behind the desert hill?
Shed the glory of its colors
Over every mountain rill?
The rainbow, red, and purple,
Bring a joy to your heart
And the green and yellow blended
Shows a precious work of art.
Oh! You roam over many countries,
For a sight that is great to see,
But the colors of the desert
Seem more beautiful to me.