Growing Up Poor

Not a lot of perks or privilege

In the caverns of my humble youth.

We didn’t know we were poor at the time

If you really want to know the truth.

All of the people that we knew

Were living pretty much the same,

Except, of course, those precious few

Who didn’t bother to know our name.

No caviar on our daily buffet,

No crepes or kabobs were ever seen.

But hunger was never an issue as long as

We had cornbread, taters and beans.

 

The clothes on our backs?

Some were hand-me-downs

Garnered from relatives, neighbors and friends.

We didn’t consider it charity,

Just a kindly means to a worthwhile end.

Through work or play we ended each day

Sleeping each night in a creaky bed

Snuggled so deep under Mom’s hand-stitched quilts,

Thankful to have a roof over our heads.

 

Hardscrabble country life,

Just getting along.

Sundays we ride the pews

To sweet Gospel songs.
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