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Uncle Harold's Corner

Red Rooster, Red Rooster, Dead Rooster

Ever throw an ole red rooster down the hole of an out  house

Well it happen to me,  and I can  tell you how it came about

the red rooster liked me not, and in return I like him none

then one day he came at me at full bore, at a dead run.

He flogged me, he pecked me, he really ticked me off real good

this day I made up my mind, enough, and my ground, I stood

I killed that sucker, the ole red rooster was now surely dead

cause I done found me a club and put it upside his head.

Now mom would be mad, I am so sure she, surely will

now to get rid of the ole red rooster,  that i just did kill.

No better place could I think of then the outhouse out back

I tossed that sucker down there in an ole gunny sack .

The sack came open, the undead rooster came out

he started such a ruckus and flopping about

mom came to see  just what just had happened

what happened next, I would rather had a strappen.

This part of the story I really should leave untold

she made my brothers lower me on a rope, down the hole

to retrieve the red rooster, from %^*%^$  cold and smelly

I got that sucker whilst standing in crap, clean up to my belly.

They raised me out of the hole, red rooster and all

I wanted to throw him up agains the out house wall

but mom made me take him to the river with me

with lava soap, to make us both stink free.

I should have drowned the red rooster, the thought later came

but from that day forward the red rooster was not the same

he stayed away from me, and I was no longer afraid

those are the facts, from which this story is made. 

Fulfilling Mom's Dreams   I will never see all the places my mom dreamed for her mind wondered there often, it seemed. I hope to see some of them all before I am done for I loved to travel, see things, follow the sun.   Mother loved the Ozarks, the Smokey Mountains too, she saw the Great Desert, and the Rockies, but still so few. She wanted to see them all, but saw only a few in number but now she can see them all, from her eternal slumber.   I yearn to see the New England states late in the fall, the splener of nature, and colorful leaves afore they fall. I want to see the gulf, when the weather up north is cold, I just want to go, see, and enjoy, as the road doth unfold.   Would be nice to go to a city or two, but for me rural will suffice, the back roads, the biways, the less travelled road, those are nice. To meet the people, enjoy the people, and their ways of living, to share their joys, their hardships, happiness and forgiving.   To see the tall trees way out west, the Green Forest in Oregon, these are the things I truly want to see before I am gone. The caves in New Mexico, the Geyser's up in Wyoming, aw,  the wonders of the the USA are the things worth seeing.   The Great Lakes, and all the small lakes, and streams running free, these are just a few things I, in memory of Mom, do want to see. and when the times comes, I can't travel - I can travel no longer, I will return to my roots, and sit and dream, places to ponder.    I am sure, I will never see all the places Mom dreamed of, for knowledge was her forte, and travel - she did love. For no matter where I will go, which road I will upon meandor, I will share with my Mom, the beauty, the awesomeness, the splendor.   unfinished   by Happy Harold

Ice storm Dec  2007   Once upon a time, in my home town. the ice cometh, the trees came down and a mess was strewn all about for the luxuries - we were without   We rounded up candles, so as to see for there was not computer or t.v. and as we sat and talked of old outside a blowing, bitter wind, so cold   But we were snug and warm as could be all gathered around an unlit christmas tree greatful for all the things great and small and for our family members, one and all   Tis times like this, that brings us so close to the ones that we do love the most for things to go awry, perhaps amiss for we have prepared for such as this
Fried Green Tomaters   Fry bacon good and crispy, til well done save the grease, for that is half the fun fry egged dipped maters in that pan they sizzle, and hiss as only maters can   Upon homemade biscuits, golden brown heap bacon and  maters, all salted down one bite and you will have to have another this is the receipe of a dear freinds mother

Swimming Hole     by Happy Harold     Down at the ole swimming hole we go.   on the grape vine, swinging to and fro.   where we first learned  to swim alone,   just over the  hill from our cabin home.     Where  we  bathed  with ivory soap,     twas  the  only  soap  made to float.   thus the bar of soap was never lost,   from  one  another  it   was  tossed.     Ole swimming hole, by the sycamore tree,   life  there  was  good,   and  so  care free.   time  spent  there   was  time  well  spent,   that  is  why,     we  oft  times  there,  went     Kids  screaming,   yelling,    having   a   good   time,   swinging  two  at  a  time,   on  the  ole  grape  vine.   tis   a  wonder      the   grapevine  never  gave  way.   iI will remember the swimming hole til my dying day.     I think every kid nearly drowned there,       or so they say.   the  tales  we tell  of  went  on  there, in  our younger day.   every boy and girl should have their own swimming hole,   where  dreams  were  made,   and  memories do unfold.
Sitting in the out house on a dark night, all eerie noises about, nary a light. So, set afire pages of the newspaper, this lead to the outhouse fire caper.   One night the fire got bigger and bold, the outhouse was no longer dark and cold. the floor caught afire, and we did scatter, looking for anything to carry some water.   When all was said and done, and the fire out, we learned never to do that again,without a doubt from thence, to the outhouse we took a candle, for that kind of comfort and light we could handle.
Where forth art thou o Spring   As I set here, dreaming of spring the four seasons - 0 wondrous thing. Cabin fever - I am nearly drained, first it snowed  and then it rained.   Oh come sweet spring, if you would, the warmth you bring'll do me good. I hunger to enjoy your sweet air, are you coming? are you even there?   The signs are here, but you are not, like the seed catalogs that I got. Canada geese flying, honking as they fly, plus a robin in the yard I did espy.   The crocus are trying to break ground, these are signs of you that I found. So stop teasing and get on in here, time of anticipation, this time of year.    unfinished     poem    by Harold	Portrait of Eva Virginia May Hoskins by her Granddaughter Lynanne Flack Martin