Oh Iswanni... Where has Mabel been?
It kind of reminds you of an old song, “oh where oh where can my baby be,
the lord took my friend Mabel away from me...”
Good old Mabel has been doing a lot of traveling lately. Mabel found out
that those good old county roads are exactly that... they are good old
privately owned country roads.
Heck, I think I need to jump on the old band wagon too, so thank the lord
for our Road Supervisor.” How’s this... “Oh I stand daily, endlessly, ever so
patiently, at the side of my old country road. An old country road decaying
of neglect. An old country road that I walked as an old country road (even
then) when I was but a child.
Oh, I remember when, I would gaze upon the passers by, in hopes of a
glimmering glimpse, of this Icon, this inspiration this master of the county
roadways. And to cry out unto this man, please, oh great road man, please
spare a portion of that asphalt for my country road. I do have to admit, I
do enjoy driving on those new asphalt covered roads.
Hey, not to change the subject or anything, but I have an idea. Let’s don’t
complain. Let’s just all move out.
Do what?
I don’t know. I guess it would look kind of funny to see soldiers facing off
on a battle field. And just before the clash, one side takes off running
leaving the other side laughing and saying to themselves “this is too easy”.
And what side was we on again? What side is Mabel on? Hey Maaaaay-bulllll
I don’t know. If we had a choice between a silk purse or a hogs ear.
If we had a choice between where we’re at or where we could be.
If we had a choice between a band wagon or a turnip wagon.
Ah, who cares right?
Yep, rest assured 100 years from now it most definitely will not matter to
any of us. If it does, then at that point in time please look me up. I want to
shake your hand.
Looking at it like that way seems rather depressing doesn't it. Yep, let’s
keep right on getting up and going to work. Coming home after a long hard
day at the mill, or other low wage job. Usually disgusted about something
that had happened at work that you didn’t like. Keep on worrying about
those bills that force us to work overtime and our days off. Both parents
working. Never enough time. And then let’s get up tomorrow and do it all
again, if we are even here tomorrow. I was never promised tomorrow. Now
you all might have been promised tomorrow, but not me.
Then let’s all strive to live and grow old so we can finally sit down in that
good old rocking chair and look back at all that we had done throughout our
life, all that we accomplished. Then to lose the memory as it is usually the
first thing to go, so they say. Wait, what was I saying...
Oh, to enjoy the grand golden years of travel and laughter, oh I can almost
see it now. Yeah right.
Not this fellow. I will probably be paying for all those pizzas, hamburgers,
shakes and stress and worry and just the everyday things of life. Now
what side was we on again?
Let’s don’t worry about things or problems of the county as long as they
don’t come calling at our door. Sounds real interesting doesn’t it?
Well, I guess I must be sitting on that turnip wagon.
And what wagon are you sitting in again?
It kind of reminds you of an old song, “oh where oh where can my baby be,
the lord took my friend Mabel away from me...”
Good old Mabel has been doing a lot of traveling lately. Mabel found out
that those good old county roads are exactly that... they are good old
privately owned country roads.
Heck, I think I need to jump on the old band wagon too, so thank the lord
for our Road Supervisor.” How’s this... “Oh I stand daily, endlessly, ever so
patiently, at the side of my old country road. An old country road decaying
of neglect. An old country road that I walked as an old country road (even
then) when I was but a child.
Oh, I remember when, I would gaze upon the passers by, in hopes of a
glimmering glimpse, of this Icon, this inspiration this master of the county
roadways. And to cry out unto this man, please, oh great road man, please
spare a portion of that asphalt for my country road. I do have to admit, I
do enjoy driving on those new asphalt covered roads.
Hey, not to change the subject or anything, but I have an idea. Let’s don’t
complain. Let’s just all move out.
Do what?
I don’t know. I guess it would look kind of funny to see soldiers facing off
on a battle field. And just before the clash, one side takes off running
leaving the other side laughing and saying to themselves “this is too easy”.
And what side was we on again? What side is Mabel on? Hey Maaaaay-bulllll
I don’t know. If we had a choice between a silk purse or a hogs ear.
If we had a choice between where we’re at or where we could be.
If we had a choice between a band wagon or a turnip wagon.
Ah, who cares right?
Yep, rest assured 100 years from now it most definitely will not matter to
any of us. If it does, then at that point in time please look me up. I want to
shake your hand.
Looking at it like that way seems rather depressing doesn't it. Yep, let’s
keep right on getting up and going to work. Coming home after a long hard
day at the mill, or other low wage job. Usually disgusted about something
that had happened at work that you didn’t like. Keep on worrying about
those bills that force us to work overtime and our days off. Both parents
working. Never enough time. And then let’s get up tomorrow and do it all
again, if we are even here tomorrow. I was never promised tomorrow. Now
you all might have been promised tomorrow, but not me.
Then let’s all strive to live and grow old so we can finally sit down in that
good old rocking chair and look back at all that we had done throughout our
life, all that we accomplished. Then to lose the memory as it is usually the
first thing to go, so they say. Wait, what was I saying...
Oh, to enjoy the grand golden years of travel and laughter, oh I can almost
see it now. Yeah right.
Not this fellow. I will probably be paying for all those pizzas, hamburgers,
shakes and stress and worry and just the everyday things of life. Now
what side was we on again?
Let’s don’t worry about things or problems of the county as long as they
don’t come calling at our door. Sounds real interesting doesn’t it?
Well, I guess I must be sitting on that turnip wagon.
And what wagon are you sitting in again?
| Take Me Home Country Road... |
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| ~~~S.W.A.T.~~~ Seeking Wisdom And Truth |
| The Second Amendment... Because when seconds count, the police are only minutes away |
| Tennessee Gadfly |
