Saturday, February 14, 2009


Gee, two posts today!

As I dragged myself out of bed this morning to yet another cold and blustery day, I couldn't help but think how much I miss going barefoot - every day. Which brought to mind a little poem that my dad used to say. And while now it seemed at arbitrary moments, I'm sure at those times it was appropriate.

So as I stood in front of my dresser this morning, I looked down at my soon to be socked feet and thought, "Barefoot girl with shoes on..." But what was the rest? I don't think he ever recited the rest. Well, the wonders of the Internet and Google later, I bring you...

The Dying Fisherman's Song

'Twas midnight on the ocean,
Not a streetcar was in sight,
The sun was shining brightly
For it had rained all that night.

'Twas a summer's day in winter
The rain was snowing fast,
As a barefoot girl with shoes on,
Stood sitting on the grass.

'Twas evening and the rising sun
Was setting in the west;
And all the fishes in the trees
Were cuddled in their nests.

The rain was pouring down,
The sun was shining bright,
And everything that you could see
Was hidden out of sight.

The organ peeled potatoes,
Lard was rendered by the choir;
When the sexton rang the dishrag
Someone set the church on fire.

"Holy smokes!" the teacher shouted,
As he madly tore his hair.
Now his head resembles heaven,
For there is no parting there.
-- Author Unknown


Annette said...

I wish I could remember the one about the 'crooked man who walked with a crooked stick'
That was many, many years ago I heard that and it's similar to the poem you have just written. I'll try to remember it for you.

deb said...

Mother Goose, I think. He had a crooked house as I recall.