Poems and Stuff Part 2

Secrets of the Bayou

So, back in the yonder years of my childhood, my father lived on the bayou. Literally, his front yard was a bank on the bayou and YES, it was crawling with gators. I loved it. He had a long pier that bounced with every step you took down to the dock where a 17 foot bass boat was tied off. That boat has the best memories for me at my father's. Running trout lines, going sight seeing, exploring abandoned houses, camping out under the stars. Excitement and the thrill of danger, is there anything better when you are a kid? *sighs*

Anyways, the back yard, or shall I say the bottom of the hill that his house was perched on, was a thick woodsy swamp full of cypress trees and cypress knees. Those were the best games, hopping from knee to knee trying not to slip off into the sludge of the swamp. Oh, but slipping off and hitting one hurt like hell. Life threatening in some cases, but when you are young you don't care, you just wanna have fun. *sighs again in remembrance*

Fun some of the time and then not so fun other times. There are good memories and there are bad ones, the latter of which is the cause of this piece I have written.

Talking with my sister recently, exchanging memories, I found that her memories were a lot different than mine. Of course I stopped going way before she did because our treatment over there was different. It was her memories that inspired this post.

There is this song called "The Crawdad Song" which is a song my stepmother use to play on the guitar and sing to us when we were there. My sisters and I that is, along with a few other kids that stayed there as well. If you don't know the song you may wanna look it up. The song, my sisters and my memories are what inspired this piece, so I cannot take full credit, but most of the words and emotions are mine. So here goes:

"Secrets of the Bayou"

Don't drink too much of that witches' brew, Honey,
Don't drink too much of that witches' brew, Babe,
Don't drink too much of that witches' brew,
We've gotta make it down the bayou,
Honey, Baby mine.

Wake up, sister, before it's too late, Honey,
Wake up, sister, before it's too late, Babe,
Wake up, sister, before it's too late,
Our mystery man is at the gate,
Honey, Baby mine.

She's takin' the dollars from his hand, Honey,
She's takin' the dollars from his hand, Babe,
She's takin' the dollars from his hand,
He's tellin' us to proceed as planned,
Honey, Baby mine.

You get the gun and I'll get the boat, Honey,
You get the gun and I'll get the boat, Babe,
You get the gun and I'll get the boat,
Good thing that chopper handle is a float,
Honey, Baby mine.

What are we gonna do if the bayou runs dry, Honey,
What are we gonna do if the bayou runs dry, Babe,
What are we gonna do if the bayou runs dry,
There's nothing left for us to hide,
Honey, Baby mine.

Let's give thanks to the gators now, Honey,
Let's give thanks to the gators now, Babe,
Let's give thanks to the gators now,
because they chomped down all that cow,
Honey, Baby mine.