(BORN SEPTEMBER 25, 1897)
by Earl J. Wilcox
I ain’t gonna talk about the South
Cause if I do do that, yawl would
Have my hide for telling what
I know about the critters we done
Got from the shack down there
And done brung them back here
To the house. Momma say yawl
Got to take baths after spending
The night with Aunt Reba in her
Cabin for the critters just all over
The place back there. We probly
Took them to Miz Reba’s place in
The first place. Momma say they
so small they get in your hair like
lice do but these ain’t lice. She call
them the same name we say at night
whens we pray about sleeping tight
and not let ‘em bite. Don’t know
Where they bite, for pityssake.
Come on in and get in the bathtub
with me, Caddy, we got to get shed
of them critters before we goes to sleep.
It’s my birthday today, ain’t it?
Earl J. Wilcox writes about aging, baseball, literary icons, politics, and southern culture. His work appears in more than two dozen journals; he is a regular contributor to The New Verse News. More of Earl's poetry appears at his blog, Writing by Earl.
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