I was born near Holder; some called it Slap-Out.
Why they gave it that name, I never found out.
But much later I did hear a man tell
A story which I remember quite well.
It all happened on a bright sunny day
A young man and his girlfriend had just lost their way.
He asked an old-timer, "Is this the way to Holder?"
The old man replied, "Be a little bolder,
Grab her again, son, I didn't see how you had her."
So they hugged up closer, which made them both gladder.
At the age of six, it was in the fall.
I helped pick cotton, and that's not all
I began my trip into the field of learning
Which, for two long years, I had been yearning
And so did my dog, who followed me
I wonder just what he wanted to be.
But it didn't work out, so I took him home
And locked him in the house, so he couldn't roam
When I came home, I must confess,
The window shades and beds were an awful mess.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem