My Grandpa is a man of little whimsy, but during the summer projects that I did with him, he would sometimes recite these silly rhymes. I'll remember them as long as I live.
I did a little looking around and it seems that these are rhymes that were popular in the '30s and '40s. There are many versions, but this is the way I remember it. It appears the author may be Asa Martin, a country/folk musician from Kentucky in the early 1900's. If anyone knows where they came from originally, I'd love to hear more about it!
"Twas midnight on the ocean,
Not a streetcar was in sight.
The sun was shining brightly
For it rained all day that night.
"One evening as the rising sun
Was setting in the West,
All the fishes in the trees
Were cuddled in their nests.
"On a summer's day one winter
As the rain was snowing fast,
A barefoot girl with shoes on
Stood sitting on the grass.
"The organ peeled potatoes.
Lard was rendered by the choir.
When the sexton rang the dishrag
Someone set the church on fire.
"'Holy Smoke!' the preacher yelled
As he madly tore his hair.
Now, his head resembles heaven
For there is no parting there."
Showing posts with label Grandpa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Grandpa. Show all posts
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
The barn floor
One of my fondest memories is working with my grandfather on some of the projects around his farm. I love telling this story to my boys. I don't know who enjoys it more, them or me!
I remember one summer working on replacing the barn floor. We first had to remove all of the equipment sitting on the old floor. Then we continued by pulling up the old rough hewn boards. Some of them weren't even nailed down and Grandpa slipped on one of the boards and fell through to the dirt floor, about 8 feet below.
I ran inside to get Grammie and fortunately, Grandpa wasn't hurt. We continued our job of replacing the boards. That summer, my cousin was working with us. He was only about four years old, but he had--and still has--a strong work ethic and enjoys manual labor.
When we got to the point of laying down the new floor on the old boards, we used 2x6 boards and 16d galvanized spikes. These are fairly thick boards and large nails. They're not easy to drive. One of us would start a nail for my cousin and while he tap-tap-tapped away, we'd work on a row of 2x6 boards. My cousin worked feverishly on his 16d spike. He missed more than he hit the head of the spike, but he succeeded. At the end of the day, his spike was fully driven.
My favorite part of the story, though, is what Grandpa said to me at the end of the day. He brought me over to review the day's work for our four-year-old partner. There, in the soft wood, were a large number of very small dents surrounding the 16d spike over about an 6 inch circle. With a grin, he said, "You used to do that!"
Why did I like that so much? Because in not so many words, he told me, "You have come a long way. You have what it takes." He was saying that he had believed in me back when a day's work was driving a single nail and hitting the wood more than hitting my target. He gave me the freedom to miss my mark, because I would eventually learn to hit the nail on the head.
I remember one summer working on replacing the barn floor. We first had to remove all of the equipment sitting on the old floor. Then we continued by pulling up the old rough hewn boards. Some of them weren't even nailed down and Grandpa slipped on one of the boards and fell through to the dirt floor, about 8 feet below.
I ran inside to get Grammie and fortunately, Grandpa wasn't hurt. We continued our job of replacing the boards. That summer, my cousin was working with us. He was only about four years old, but he had--and still has--a strong work ethic and enjoys manual labor.
When we got to the point of laying down the new floor on the old boards, we used 2x6 boards and 16d galvanized spikes. These are fairly thick boards and large nails. They're not easy to drive. One of us would start a nail for my cousin and while he tap-tap-tapped away, we'd work on a row of 2x6 boards. My cousin worked feverishly on his 16d spike. He missed more than he hit the head of the spike, but he succeeded. At the end of the day, his spike was fully driven.
My favorite part of the story, though, is what Grandpa said to me at the end of the day. He brought me over to review the day's work for our four-year-old partner. There, in the soft wood, were a large number of very small dents surrounding the 16d spike over about an 6 inch circle. With a grin, he said, "You used to do that!"
Why did I like that so much? Because in not so many words, he told me, "You have come a long way. You have what it takes." He was saying that he had believed in me back when a day's work was driving a single nail and hitting the wood more than hitting my target. He gave me the freedom to miss my mark, because I would eventually learn to hit the nail on the head.
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