Born a poor sharecroppers son Of nine children, the oldest one. He never learned to read or write And worked from sunup till night. Poverty and hard times were his life As the family struggled to stay alive. Barely enough food to put on the table, Some meat for the beans only when able. His clothes had patches on patches And shoes with nicks and scratches, Hand-me-down wear from his dad Were the only clothes he ever had. Plowing the fields from dawn till dark Six days a week until Sundays lark When the family finally got rest In the tiny shack where they nest. Brothers and sisters he helped tend While fences waited for his mend. Through his youth he gave all he had As best he could for Mom and Dad. At eighteen he wed the neighbors daughter The eldest of a farmer just like his father. They had six kids after vows were spoken, The circle of poverty goes 'round unbroken. ©Kenneth J. Ellison April 7, 2004 Used With Permission All Rights Reserved By Author Mail Website

Burning Memories
Country Midi And Lyrics

Photograph courtesy of StockStash