Voices, Page 1 Of 2 Poem by John Bliven Morin

I ‘member still thar voices,
Thet night so long ago;
Cousin Billy and his friend,
They wuz excited so.

“You better git on over heah, ”
They whispered on the phone,
“We got us one real good, ah say,
We ketched him all alone

A-walkin’ ‘long the highway,
Jest outside of town;
We’s havin’ us some fun t’night,
So you better git on down! ”

O Lord, why did I listen?
Why did I up and go?
For I am damned to hell f’ sure,
My voices tol’ me so.

I tuk my ol’ blue Chevvy
With the shotgun in the rack,
An’ drove to where they tol’ me to,
That loggin’ road in back.

An’ thar they wuz beside the road,
A man, to a truck wuz tied
An’ Billy an’ Earl and Brother Bob
A-laughin’ there beside.

“Wal, looky heah son, whut we got -
A uppity city buck!
He ain’t so uppity now I see,
Tied to my pickup truck.

We all done had our fun with him,
So come on over heah;
Kick him in the b-ls like - this -
An’ have a can of beer.”

O Lord I never keered fer Bill,
An’ Earl wuz trailer scum;
I didn’t know this Brother Bob,
Why did I join them some?

The screamin’ it was horrible,
The silence it was worst;
For months I dreamt it all agin,
I knowed that I wuz curst.