Spunky Country Folks - Poem by Connie Yost
They've rolled up the rug from the living room floor,
There's grape juice punch on the table,
Elderberry pies, butter cookies and more,
Lump candy from the springtime maple.
Over in the corner in her mamma's arms,
Baby girl hears the nice fiddle.
Neighborhood musicians have come from their farms,
Her daddy is there in the middle.
Fill up the floor and do an allamanda left,
All the way around the circle.
Mandolin hopeful tremoloing his best,
Distracted by that girl in purple.
Little ones are sleepin' on a pile of coats,
The band plays a cowboy ballad?
Livin' close to nature, spunky country folks,
And humbly unaware of their talents.
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