Volume I, No. 3, Spring 1974
I was raised on hard tack biscuits, black strap syrup and a lot of mush.
I trod to school about two and a half miles through mud, snow, and slush.
Now some folks call them the good old days cause their memory is not very keen,
But I'll tell you they are the roughest days this old boy has ever seen.
I'd get up before the crack of dawn to go and milk the cow.
And how I got through the winter months to this day I don't know how.
Now everybody had his share of work and you did it in rain or sleet
Cause if you didn't get your share of it done, you gosh durn well didn't eat.
You think I may be joshing but just ask someone who knows,
And he will tell you the exact same thing if he is one of us old pros.
So when you hear of the good old days they say just couldn't be beat,
Try sitting in the house with no coat on with no circulating heat.
Sitting around that old wood stove I'll tell you I nearly died.
It would bake your front to a golden brown while freezing the other side.
So they can have the good old days with all the memories that are mine,
While I sit back in my easy chair and enjoy these modern times.
by Robert S. DeClue
St. Louis, Missouri
Old photograph from collection of Janelle Smith
Copyright © 1981 BITTERSWEET, INC.
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