Country Boy

 I wanna be a country boy
with sawdust in my hair
with an upright glance 
and a stead-fast stance 
and a crazy reckless air

Let me run the woods 

with a shot-gun

primed with my own pour

Blessed barefoot boy 

with the sun on my face

Hail. Sweet Mary, Full of Grace,

Living out legend and lore

Give me leather to stamp

and a field to weed

Engines to fix and mend

Cover me in the dust of steel,

Trust me mother, behind that wheel

Doesn't much matter if I miss a meal

I've got stock to tend.

Make me slow to speak

and steady

with eyes of liquid blue,

I'll always have the words at the ready

for what I know is true

I'll cut the steaks 

and turn the lathe

and rescue damsels in need of aid

I'll chase the the music

cross the old barn floor

and out beneath the moon

and the singing dreaming heart of me

will make me the whole world's fool

But I'll lay me down on a bed of rye

and smell the ripened grain

And sketch out plans

on the summer sky

and count my loss as gain

You can keep your city living

and you can keep your pride

keep your bank portfolios 

and your 9 to 5

I'll take joy in the woodshed

and in the garden and the shop

I'll sing my song by the fire's edge,

Take my leap at the river's ledge,

Stalk that turkey

behind that hedge

And say my prayers tonight

 

Give me a small soft mother

with tendrils in her hair

Give me a Papa's blessing

From a man with a boy's heart there

And when it's time to think such things-

If there ever comes a day,

Let me steal the love of one sweet girl

as pretty as the month of May

Or else make me a brother

to every living man

and then I'll be a country boy

in the best way that I can

BUT TILL THEN

I'll lay me down

on a bed of rye

and smell the ripening grain

And sketch out dreams on a summer's sky

and count my loss as gain

(Poem for the Schmiedicke Family of MI, by Chiara Dowell)