Posted on 09/13/2013 4:11:23 PM PDT by RoosterRedux
An old friend who is like a brother to me was frustrated with an email response I sent him...and, in his frustration, he tried to insult me by calling me "an uniformed redneck." I obviously caused him pain, for which I am sorry--but not sorry for speaking the truth as I know it.
In response, I composed this poem (but hey, Jack--as Uncle Si would say--I am not a poet...and I am a something less than a redneck).
This is a poem of no rhyme or meter on the subject of rednecks. Prose I guess.Rednecks.
I was never able to achieve that.
What is a redneck? Around here it is a farmer’s son who after playing football on a Friday night, got up on Saturday morning and worked all day in the fields.
He worked every school day after it was over til the sun went down (and often afterward). Like his father, he did what had to be done. Whatever the hour…whatever the exertion, he did what had to be done.
Rednecks have to be veterinarians, crop scientists, laborers, cooks, nursemaids, gamesmen/hunters, chemists, and after all that they have whatever is left of their time for a life.
In that time they read and study and court their girlfriends and sometimes play or at least listen to music.
They are happy, loyal to their families and their country. They work hard and are smart.
I cannot count myself among them. They are better by an order of magnitude.
I was a simple little town nerd…a bookworm.
My father never counted on me for the life or death of our farm (and a farm is a business we didn’t have). He never had to and, if he had, he might have found me wanting.
Heheh...make that uninformed redneck. Uniforms haven't been issued yet to my knowledge.
Hey, Rooster, that is really good! Thanks for making my Friday even better! (and have a great weekend!)
I chewed tobacco when I was at least as young as 5 and spit it into a coke bottle.
I swam in a dirty creek where a dead cow lay rotting.
I lived in a small frame house that had maggots on the wood planks.
I burned my thigh on the radiator.
We roamed cornfields and swamps shooting birds with our BB guns and snakes.
My dog dragged up to the porch a deer, a beaver, a possum to show us what she caught.
We had sermons from a preacher on the sandy beach of the Blackwater river while the girls swam in one area and the boys swam in another.
Oh, and we watched farmers fight their pitbulls, down in Florida and Alabama.
I lost mine in that darned boating accident up on the river. Lost my Glock too.
Yur welcome...have a great weekend!
Let me remind you all, my dear.
We fight all your wars,
and install most doors.
We drive trucks for miles,
and make taxpayers for smiles.
We make less money,
give more to charity.
We pay the taxes
while you grind your axes.
We raise families and crops
While your curtain drops.
We built the country to its glory days.
We’ll be here after the misty haze
of the next war clears.
But maggots live in meat...not wood. Put the maggots in the cow rotting in the river and you have a winner.
Also, Southern houses don't have radiator heat. But our cars have them for cooling.
Jeff Foxworthy says that NASA must only employ rednecks because they managed to put two cars on Mars and one of em is already up on blocks
This is a poem of no rhyme or meter on the subject of rednecks. Prose I guess.
Rednecks.
I was never able to achieve that.
What is a redneck? Around here it is a farmer’s son who after playing football on a Friday night, got up on Saturday morning and worked all day in the fields.
He worked every school day after it was over til the sun went down (and often afterward). Like his father, he did what had to be done. Whatever the hour…whatever the exertion, he did what had to be done.
Rednecks have to be veterinarians, crop scientists, laborers, cooks, nursemaids, gamesmen/hunters, chemists, and after all that they have whatever is left of their time for a life.
In that time they read and study and court their girlfriends and sometimes play or at least listen to music.
They are happy, loyal to their families and their country. They work hard and are smart.
I cannot count myself among them. They are better by an order of magnitude.
I was a simple little town nerd…a bookworm.
My father never counted on me for the life or death of our farm (and a farm is a business we didn’t have). He never had to and, if he had, he might have found me wanting.
You are so right.
My reply to the red neck barb has always been:
“Thank God for the rednecks for they make the world go around.”
And we pour our Tom’s peanuts into our colas for a balanced lunch!
But we did have a radiator. When I burned my thigh, my mother put meat on it. Remember that old thing?
That said, your way with words and imagery is wonderful.
Second to that and a few years later was a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup and a coke for break (this when I was a bag boy at Harvey's Supermarket).
shooting birds with our BB guns and snakes.
how’d you shoot a snake? those things are flimsy,so it weren’t with a bow
just funnin’ ya...
sounds like the way I grew up
They’re called Reecee Cups.
Luv Nashville...but that is one weird town.
Great writing. Did my heart good. Thanks for posting.
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