I don't remember
About Horse and buggy days
But have been told a lot
How families gathered for fellowships
How each brought food in old Iron pots.
They entertained themselves,
With guitars and violins.
They square danced in their barn,
Till they were all give in!
I know I heard my granny talk,
About doing things the good old way,
But churning milk to make their butter,
Wasn't much fun I'd say.
And washing clothes in wash pots,
And stoking up that fire,
And washing jars in tubs all day,
For canning food in jars.
A lot of this ,I've done myself,
Like washing jars all day,
So we could have them nice and clean,
To put our food away.
Yes, I washed in old wash pots,
And hung out clothes to dry.
I've hoed the garden all day long,
Till I felt like I wanted to cry.
And I have churned that milk,
For making homemade butter,
There were no biscuits way back then,
To whop against the counter.
We made our biscuits all from scratch,
and they were so much better.
Now when supper came, we all sat down.
We always ate together,
But as you know today at meals,
We're lucky just to see each other.
May God forgive us for all we've lost,
That closeness that we felt,
As we took our children to their rooms,
And beside their beds we knelt.
And what about those old cast irons,
We had to heat on stoves,
They had to be good and hot,
So we could iron our clothes.
And did you ever cook out cracklings
For making crackling bread?
You haven't lived at all,
Until crackling bread you've had.
My goodness, I could just go on and on,
About those days back then,
And all the things we did
Where, and way back when.
But I've got to stop and eat,
As I think of ribs and home made kraut,
And crackling bread and turnip greens,
I now must do without.
"Now ya'll have a barn stomping good time."
Faye Reyenga ~ © ~ 1 / 8 / 2005