Twyebuck River days

Little fishies in the murky water.

Little kiddies on the muddy banks.

The sunshine didn't come from the sun those days,

and the skipping stones carried our wishes with them.

Life on the Twyebuck was sewing a patch in my overalls .

Life on the Twyebuck was tallgrass in your mouth.

Life on the Twyebuck was the berries in the bushes.

Cops and robbers and no wussies allowed.

Digging for worms while our fathers dug in the mine.

Mother's supper bell rung high with the sunsets.

Honkey-tonks, Banjo's, and chew for the evening.

Life on the Twyebuck was a little house on the prairie.

Life on the Twyebuck was too early to bed and too early to rise.

Life on the Twyebuck  was casting a line, and catching every time.

The Teacher made dunces of us.

The sun shined but we stayed in the schoolhouse.

The chalkboard carried cursive.

The switch never made the joke worth it,

and the shady trees made the dog days longer.

Life on the Twyebuck was younger in my heart but old in my memory.