Roses On The Hill Poem by Quinten Darrow

Clickety-click clickety-click, place a penny on the railroad track.

Esso before Exxon, Burger Boy, Masons and just that one red light.
Steel cleats, drainage pipe, sounds from Peay on a summer night.
Across the road and into the creek, gotta get a free foul ball coke.
Behind the courts, quick no one's looking, sneak your first smoke.

White brick on roses, Ginny chasing chickens at Ranchwood gates.
Kodachrome and Glorious Technicolor, memories these illustrate.
Suzanne, Red, Daleen, Peanut, Hudson, Oneil, Carlisle and Montice.
Huge tub of Charley's lemonade, deviled eggs and a five-table feast.

Sailing paper planes out a study hall widow, almost made the road.
Girls, always my favorite subject, though well it did not always bode.
By Andrea's back steps I had a real kiss, thanks to a Miss Cunningham.
Casanova I was certainly not, the poor girl had to draw me a diagram.

Now the worst thing I ever did, well that happened right over there.
I was thirteen when I unceremoniously dumped Lovie out her chair.
I can hear them; in unison they shout 'No, you've done lots worse,
it was you who taught Clayton Delaney to smoke, drink and curse'.

Once there was John, Robert, Martin, Lee Harvey and Otis Redding.
Flower girls and ring bearers, my sister and I, Ken and Lois' wedding.
Friday nights were football, at homecoming they even had a parade.
Fall, so colorful coming up the hill, just like a kaleidoscope serenade.

Now you can speak of Mayberry or any other of those quaint towns,
I was just as safe as Opie while walking end to end making my rounds.
Yep, Nashville is Music City and at the growth y'all would be amazed,
Grateful I'll be, for it was in Goodlettsville that I was born and raised.

Placed my penny on the railroad track, clickety-click clickety-click.