Dedicated to my south Georgia ancestors. It was much cooler under the shade tree in the evening, than it was in their house with the hot tin roof. I remember those times at my grandfather's house as a small child.
Beneath this old umbrella oak
We spin our yarns and tell our jokes,
Drink lemonade with country folk.
They drop by here to wish us well,
To grab a chair and sit a spell.
So, come my friend; we'll reminisce
About the bygone years we miss
And simpler days of childhood bliss.
We'll fry hush puppies, catfish, too.
We went last night and caught a few.
You know, we brag and stretch a bit
About the size of fish we get,
But, it's alright! That's southern wit!
What fun I've had and love I've felt
With poor folk from the Bible belt.
I think of all the Good Book said
About the fish, the loaves of bread,
And multitude the Savior fed.
If only they could come and share
This shady spot and grab a chair.
We'd make new friends beneath this tree.
The Lord would come, and we would see
His Southern hospitality.
We common folk would all be fed
When, at His knee, we'd break some bread.
I hate to hear you've got to go!
We sure enjoyed your visit, though.
Be careful on those muddy roads.
Your family's such a welcome sight!
Y'all come again. God bless. Good night.
Copyright - Gordon Hand
Photo of blue chairs under the oak tree was used by permission of Janie, from Mississippi, over at southernlagniappe.blogspot.com. Go by and visit her blog. I have requested she join our group.