The best watermelon patch in the county Was planted by my great Grandpa He had a knack for growing the sweetest ones The biggest and juiciest I ever saw A hard-working man all of his life He was a long-since retired coal miner In his youth, his income was supplemented By his sideline as a moon shiner As people tend to do, he had mellowed with age Their eight children had families of their own Gone was the wild streak that once egged him on All his wild oats had long ago been sown We went to visit one day and I found him there Sitting quietly among thousands of honeybees He raised a huge garden and harvested that honey Often taking long walks 'neath his chestnut trees Grandpa's green thumb was the envy of many As the old fellow sold chestnuts, melons and honey I think the looks of delight on the customers' faces Were more precious to him than the money When we visited him in the summer time He took us to his garden up on the hill And let us each choose a melon of our very own To this day, I remember that thrill The juice from the melons and the honey from the comb Still tickle my taste buds from the memories Remembering the crunchy, sweet taste of chestnuts And Grandpa strolling underneath his beloved trees Kathleen McCoy Eldridge© June 28, 2007 All Rights Reserved









"Country Piano"
Barefoot's Midi Jamboree