Mister Holman Poem by Evelyn Judy Buehler

His name was, in fact, March Holman-
The man who was last head of the clan!
The second husband of Miss Ida Fields;
My stepgrandfather sure as redbird trills!

Both generations called him by one name,
Day is the same from dawn to sunset flame.
Grandparents were Mister and Miss to us-
Quaint backwoods custom had dictated thus.

Mister Holman was completely uneducated,
But in rearing a large brood, participated,
Although he was a hard drinkin' hellion,
And a tough, hard livin' son of a gun!

A mighty eagle with a determined red eye,
Without him everything would've gone awry.
When I was only seven and learning to sew,
He taught me a sewing trick I still know.

Back then, golden days were so very young,
Like the memory of the melody just sung,
And he sure must have been a man of flint,
To have left upon time this huge footprint!