My Inheritance...

Laughter...

I loved calling my mother's memorial service her L.A.F. because laughter was a big part of our relationship.

For my third poem, I am sharing this silly poem:

I Had But Fifty Cents
By Sam Devere

I took my girl to a fancy ball,
it was a social hop,
We waited till the folks got out
and the music it did stop...
Then to a restaurant we went,
the best one on the street,
She said she wasn't hungry,
but this is what she eat:

A dozen raw, a plate of slaw,
a chicken and a roast,
Some applesauce, asparagrass,
some soft-shell crab on toast;
A bowl of stew, some crackers too,
her appetite was immense,
When she asked for pie,
I thought I'd die,
for I had but fifty cents.

She said she wasn't hungry
and she didn't care to eat,
But I got money in my clothes
to bet she can't be beat;
She took it in so cozy,
she had an awful tank,
She said she wasn't thirsty,
but this is what she drank:

A whiskey skin, a glass of gin,
which made me shake with fear,
Some soda pop with rum on top,
a schooner full of beer;
A glass of ale, a gin cocktail,
she shoulda had more sense,
When she called for more,
I fell to the floor,
for I had but fifty cents.

Of course, I wasn't hungry
and I didn't care to eat,
Expecting any moment,
to be kicked into the street;
She said she'd bring her family 'round,
and someday we'll have fun,
When I showed the man the fifty cents,
oh this is what he done:

He tore my clothes, he smashed my nose,
he hit me on the jaw,
He gave me a prize, a pair of black eyes,
and with me swept the floor;
He grabbed me where me pants unloose
and threw me over the fence,
Take my advice, don't try it twice
when you got but fifty cents.
Take my advice, don't try it twice
when you got but fifty cents.

Disclaimer: This is an online version of this poem. I am away from home at the moment so can not compare it to the version in my* book right now. I will fix it later.

The first thing I want to share right now has to do with the above italicized statement—it was intended to be temporary. One tiny word has earned the statement a permanent place in this book item. I added the asterisk right after I wrote the word: my. This is the first time I have referred to either of these books as mine. As I started this exercise, I called the books "my inheritance" but until now, I have called them "my mother's books". For a moment just now, one of them became "my" book.

Now I find myself wondering if I could get any of my kids or grandkids to share these poems with me. Can I recreate those special moments I shared with my mother? I should try.

Or should I?

What is the value in this silly poem?

Well, for me, at this stage of my life, there is the sentimental connection with my childhood memories of reading it with Mommy.

What made this one of the poems we read together?

One of the things I find myself wanting to do as I share these poems with y'all is to make some audio recordings of me reading them aloud.

This poem has a sing-songy rhythm. That was likely the quality that had Mommy and I reading and rereading it way back then as she taught me by example to read and recite poetry with expression...with rhythm, inflection and emotion.

It is something I do well.

~ ~ ~ JESUS is LORD! ~ ~ ~