Thoughts of Home

I know I come from far away
But still I'll always care,
About the place where I was born
And folks that live back there.

We always had a lot of fun
My kinsmen folks and I,
And it was hard to leave each one
I loved them so, that's why.

I miss the little church back there
Where once I did attend,
My father's sermons filled the air
He was my Pastor then.

My Mother, she was quite a cook
You never heard me mourn,
At mealtime we was overtook
By "taters," "beans," and "corn."

We had a big old house, you see
With lots of kids about,
And tho quite bad sometimes we'd be
You never heard Mom shout.

I used to sleep with sister, Jane
The oldest girl was she,
And every night we'd get in bed
She'd tell a tale to me.

My family was so awful big
That when we took a trip,
My daddy bought a trailer
And us children rode in it!

On Saturdays if you drove through town
You'd probably stop and stare,
'Cause country folks would bring guitars
And play on the Courthouse square.

Those days I never will forget
They'll never leave my heart,
And though I'm far from all of it
In thoughts, we're not apart.

~ author ~
Donna Lilly Marcus
1960