This poem was written from my parents stories using my mamas dialect

Born and raised in Georgy,

dear ole mama would say.

Long days pickin’ cotton,

youngins playin’

in hard red clay.


Not much money for fancy toys.

A block of wood and a stick would do.

To most country folk,

kids nowadays are spoiled.

Mama says it’s true.


Cracks in the floor,

house weathered many a storm.

Siblins’ huddled together,

like a litter of pups

tryin’ to stay warm.


Always had time to visit kinfolk.

Seems folks had more respect back then.

Church house gatherins’ every Sundy,

as if it was the county fair.

Wouldn’t hear tell of all today’s sins.


Worked from sun up to sun down

doin’ things the ole fashioned way.

Coca Cola and peanuts,

a weekly treat.

Had to quit school to earn some pay.


Kinda makes me wonder,

why folks call em “The good ole days”.