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This poem was written from the last words my Great Grandfather said to me at the hospital before he passed away. He was a proud country farmer
and I wrote the poem with the slang My Great Grandpa used.
Grandpa's Final Rhyme
(Written In Blue Ridge Mountain Slang}
Wipe away them big ol' tears,
and open up them lil' ol' ears.
I don't got a whole lotta time,
to tell yah my last lil' rhyme.
Grandpa's 'bout to take his last sup,
from this ol' earth's drinkin' cup.
Kid yah gotta alot ta do,
and grandpa's a countin' on you.
Now first you gotta slop them sows,
then yah gotta move them milk cows,
ta greener fields o'er the hill,
near yah Uncle Ned's liquor still.
Spoil my ol' plowin' mule each day,
with honey-coated oats and hay.
Now yah gotta race evenin's sun,
to get an ol' farmer's work done.
Then go sit on yah ol' see-saw
and think about yah ol' grandpa.
Ol' grandpa's gettin perdy weak
and it's a gettin hard ta speak
Heaven's hirin' farmers ta plow,
and I'm headen' up there now.
So yah just look up at tha sky,
and you'll see grandpa sowin' rye.
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