GRANDSIR' fell out of his cornfield and broke his neck. (Snigger away; hit's so!) Farming the side of a cliff is like that -- by heck! I've got a call to know. Out here in Texas a feller's no land to fight, Nary a rock or slip. Look at my cotton-yield thar -- now hain't hit a sight? Strip after level strip? Wonderment takes me at times I'd be turning back, Back to that rocky hill. Quare how for all of my riches I feel a lack Only Ole Pine Top can fill. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHRISTMAS IN INDIA by RUDYARD KIPLING REBEL MOTHER'S LULLABY by SHANE LESLIE CROSSING THE PLAINS by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER AT HOME by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 25 by ALFRED TENNYSON |