© By Grady L. Duncan
Now, don't get jealous when I tell you,
about the things I once did,
as I reflect on the old times,
in those years when I was a kid.
When the family would get together,
usually, it was in mid-summer time,
when the watermelons were ripening,
and we plucked them right off the vine.
We'd wrap them in burlap toe-sacks,
And place them in a shaded creek.
There they would take on a special chill,
getting ready for later that week.
A few pullets from the hen house,
were prepared in a southern style.
The aroma from all of that cooking,
could be smelled for over a mile.
Wherever we kids had roamed,
in the barn or off in the woods,
we would always come a running,
for we knew it was something good.
Good old fried chicken and mashed potatoes,
corn on the cobb and fresh shelled peas,
hot biscuits with creamy gravy,
fresh cold milk and sweet iced tea.
Then came the cakes and pies,
Still hot from the oven's racks.
We saved those juicy watermelons,
for our afternoon refreshment snacks.
They were always "Tom Watsons",
usually weighing around fifty pounds.
They were the juiciest and the sweetest,
that ever came from God's fertile ground.
When everybody had their fill;
perhaps more than any had a need,
we kids would try our skills,
seeing who was best at spitting seeds.
Sometimes we'd really get silly
Carving teeth form the melon rind,
wearing them like grandpaws dentures,
looking like a bucktoothed friend of mine
When the foolishness was finally over,
And the cleanup chores would begin,
We had the juice from ear to ear,
dripping from our elbows and chins.
I know I have made you hungry,
with all of this talk of food,
so I'll keep it all to myself.
I'm sorry, I know it was so rude.