My Home Town Poem by Spock the Vegan

I'm taking a trip down memory lane,
to a place from whence I came.
Where the sun is bright,
and there are stars at night.

Where the air smells like manure,
and the flies are galore.
From the cows in the stall,
and the hay that we haul.

I drove the tractor since I was four.
My brothers wanted to settle the score.
I let out the clutch oh, so quick,
and off the wagon they did slip.

When I was born, my sister did cry.
But I knew I was special in the chair that was high.
The little red schoolhouse with the bell on top,
One day I rang it, and it did drop.

After first grade we rode the bus.
With gravel in the tailpipe you could hear it hiss.
"Pa Kettle" driving and the gears ground round,
Merrill said, "Grind me a pound."

A '49 Dodge truck was our family car
until a Nash Rambler that wouldn't start.
The '59 Plymouth was a lucky break,
at least 6 people it would take.

Pigs in the pen in a drunken state,
from fermented peaches that were on their plate.
Weasel in the henhouse, chickens flew the coop.
Rabbits in the garden, why not in the soup?

Dad had a rooster that didn't know how to crow.
It went through all the motions, and we said, "Oh."
He had some skunk stories that we liked so well.
I wish there was another that he could tell.

With family names like Thurston and Gleave,
Why would anybody want to leave?
Whenever I am lonely and wearing a frown,
I think about the stories from my home town.