Scott Whitby, 2020
Back from the war
Brought our mom home
Torn from the West
To raise three sons
Elizabeth community
Not even nowhere
Smaller than Caspar
He thought she wouldn't care
Burnt his old house
The one he grew up in
Burnt an old wagon
May have been the last one
Needed a home for a family
Bought a farm for four grand
You'll never pay it off
It's what his dad said
Eight acres of strawberries
Killed twelve hogs
Another twelve rows of peas
But the rows were a mile long
Horse ran through the garden
John Cobb got so mad
Never had good horses
Just lucky they weren't more bad
Too little to carry the weights
Hunted ducks before it was cool
Followed him to the bottom
Fished instead of school
We talked about our mama
Macaroni and cheese
Biscuits and gravy
Beans flavored with chicken feet
And grew gardens too big
Only way to get by
Cleaned it with a hoe
God forgive if you didn't try
Never had money
Big deal for the phone to ring
Never went somewhere, ever
But to church to sing
Sometimes the crops were ok
And Mom learned to fix hair
They suffered for money
It got better, but not fair
But if they didn't spend it
And still lived off the land
It gave their boys a chance
To have a life more grand
Sent us to school
Wanted more for us boys
Farming was ok for them but
They wanted us to have a choice
Soon we found the best women
Pat, Debra, and Kay
And we'd raise our own
And teach them to pray
Two generations later
Children grand and great
Begin their own story
Destiny of their own to make
Progeny of war and Wyoming
Southern man, a girl of the West
Wish they could see us now
Neither could have guessed
Nobody understands it
But my 2 brothers and me
Good stories for the kids
But we were there, brothers to see
We raised you like us
Best that we could
Made our mistakes
But you learned what you should
You've heard all the stories
Like seeds you can sow
You've listened so close
Now your kids need to know
How a man from the war
And a girl from the West
Could move to Elizabeth
And give you the best
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