While living a summer in South Carolina, I absorbed the local accent and diction of the people, especially the country folk and wanted to record it in some way, so I wrote this poem by listening first then writing it into a suitable form. Listening, not just writing, is what Poetry is all about, you know.
In a Piedmont Eatery…
Nothin’ apple ’bout apple jam
Peaches ain’t no size this year
The major’s took to drink again
What’s the Reverend gonna do,
What’s he gonna do.
Two eggs up straight for Helen, Sam
Mo Jo’s back in town I hear
Been no rain since God knows when
Got ta cut the corn crop down
Got ta cut it down.
No tellin’ when the strike will end
Or if Union boys are gonna win
They shut down all the mills they say
Just ain’t no work ’round here no more
Ain’t no more work ’round here.
Got not idea how long it’s been
Since Mrs. Jeffery had them twins
I’m told she’s comin’ on ok
This last two makes that family nine
Makes them Jefferys nine.
It cost you for the third refill
Sixty cents a pound these days
They had a frost down in Brazil
Sure got us in a squeeze, you know
Sure got us in a bind.