Arkansas Writer: Not Even The Case

Lived out in the country, as I grew up.

Milked cows, baled hay, drove a pickup truck.

Had to bush hog in the summer, when it was hot.

Then work on the Case, ‘cause it tore up a lot.

Got to lookin’ far away, at big city lights.

So I jumped on a plane, and took off in flight.

Said, “I won’t, really miss the old home place.

Not the house, not the barn, not even the Case.

The only things I’ll miss, as I go through life's race,

Is dear old Dad, and Mom’s smiling face.

Dear old Dad and Mom’s smiling face.”

Well I landed far, away, from home.

Discovered, it cost, a lot to roam.

So I got me a job, as a skyscraper man

The boss said, “Will you work?”

Said, “I’ll work all I can.”

Straight time was good. Over time was great.

Went to work early, and got off late.

Said, “I don’t, really miss the old home place.

Not the house. Not the barn. Not even the Case.

The only things I miss, as I go through life’s race,

Is dear old Dad, and Mom’s smiling face.

Dear old Dad, And Mom’s smiling face.”

Went, back there, just the other day.

And I did not see one bale of hay.

The other kids had sold off, the old home place,

It was subdivided. Had fallen from grace.

But I knew in my heart, my old saying was true,

There never had been one thing that I could do.

No I don’t, really miss, the old home place.

Not the house. Not the barn. Not even the Case.

The only things I miss, as I go through life’s race,

Is dear old Dad, and Mom’s smiling face.

Dear old Dad, And Mom’s smiling face.

Arkansas Writer