I can remember the
times,
When things were called good old days.
And to some degree they were,
We didn't know about modern ways.
The days were hot and dry,
No air conditioning I don't think.
I know we didn't have it,
Just a fan and something cold to drink.
We did have washing machines,
The kind that had the wringers.
Before that we washed on rub boards,
Sweat down our face just streaming.
Some still remembers it as good times,
But I like the modern conveniences.
Our irons were all cast iron,
Heated on the stove till steaming.
I can remember all the fruit jars,
We washed them till our hands were sore,
Had to do it though,
We had no money for the store.
There was a certain bit of joy I guess,
When canning was all done.
We could look at all the pretty jars,
And take pride in every one.
My friend and I use to dig and sell,
Pig iron to buy candy at the store,
The iron came from a company’s lot
That knew it was theirs before.
They never said a word but,
Paid us just the same.
Don't guess they knew who we were,
Or even knew our name.
We didn't know that it was stealing,
As far as we knew.
It was just a way to make some pennies,
If it was only just a few.
An old ditch ran through the property,
And we would fish for crawfish just to see,
By tying a piece of bacon to a string
How many there would be.
You may think we had no fun,
But then you'd be wrong.
We didn't need a lot of toys,
We just made our own.
I just like to go back to those days,
I could go on all day long.
Guess I just wanted to prove to you,
That even the rich ones can be wrong.
Faye Reyenga © 10 / 02 / 2010
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