My Baby’s Daddy

He had a flatbed Ford with a big ‘ol motor,
A case of beer in a white foam toter.
A smile on his face that always said
he’s a good man.

We hit the loggin’ roads
down in southern pine country,
driving real slow like the rest of the gentry.
Honkin’ and wavin’ our way through Arkansas.

One night I braved up,
said I’d like to marry his daughter,
He handed me a beer and said that I ought’a.
First and only time
I ever hugged that great big man.

He told me we’d go fishing soon,
he knew a great spot near a swampy lagoon.
So we headed out that very next afternoon.

We split up soon after we’d parked,
to find more fish is what he barked,
He’d head up north and I’d go on south.
As I headed down to that hidden stream
through a field of weeds up to my knees,
I found myself soon surrounded by cottonmouth.

Now I don’t know if he was just foolin’,
or if he knew those snakes were a droolin’,
but you better listen to this if you give a hoot:
If your wife’s daddy ever asks you out,
and you’re not sure what it’s all about,
be damn sure to wear your leather snake boots.

He had a flatbed Ford with a big ‘ol motor,
A case of beer in a  white foam toter.
A smile on his face that always said
he’s a good man.

We hit the loggin’ roads
down in southern pine country,
driving real slow like the rest of the gentry.
Honkin’ and wavin’ our way
through Arkansas.
.
.
© 2014 John Allen Richter

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About johnallenrichter

I am an aspiring Poet and adorer of life, a conqueror of nothing. However I am a champion curator of truth and friendship and hold both of those things most dearly to my heart. Welcome to my mind's eye. I hope you will enjoy what you may find and please know that you have a friend here. View all posts by johnallenrichter

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