One of the obvious advantages of my living to an old age is that it provides me with a lot of life to look back on an reminisce about. And, at my age, I spend a good amount of time whimsically recalling happy events of my life.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about all the fun I had with my maternal grandmother, Ann. She wuz a fun-loving, outgoing, game-playing, creative, grandma who could pound a mean ragtime, honky-tonk piano — which she played by ear because she couldn’t read a note of music.
She knew by memory hundreds of songs. She wrote music and poetry, too. Perhaps that’s the genetic source of my penchant for wordsmithing. Grandma Ann traveled throughout the Midwest with a USO group entertaining military personnel at their home bases. She spent the latter years of her life living in Aldrich, Mo. She absolutely loved the Missouri Ozarks and wrote many-a-song and poem about the region and the people it.
I remember a portion of the words to one of her humorous songs about the Ozarks. She wrote it most likely during the 1960s. The title is: “Oh, For the Life in the Ozarks.”
Here is a portion of the words I can remember.
“Oh, for the life in the Ozarks
That’s where I want to be.
I’ll spend my life in the Ozarks,
‘Cause they’re like Heaven to me.
Folks cut enough wood in winter
To buy beans, tobacco and such.
They hunt and fish, whenever they wish,
And, their clothes don’t amount to much.
Their kids start smoking at the age of two,
They even have tobacco to chew.
And, their folks don’t care, ’cause this is true.
They did the same dang thing or two.”
(repeat chorus)
***
Grandma used to entertain her young grandkids by pounding on the piano and singing silly little kids songs to us. While I can hardly remember what I had for breakfast these days, I still remember the silly words to several of her grandkid songs. Here are the words to a little ditty about two billy goats.
“In the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia
There once lived two mountain goats.
One had swallowed a stick of dynamite,
Thinking it was Quaker Oats.
Now, nice Miss June and Billy very soon,
They began to fight.
But June didn’t know that Bill was loaded
‘Til she hit his dynamite.
Through the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia
Billy sailed through the lonesome pine.
His front legs came down in New York town
And New Orleans, it got his spine.
Nashville — it got the whiskers of Bill.
And his back legs are yet missing still.
Found his head in the mountains of Virginia
And his tail in a lonesome pine.”
***
Grandma and Grandpa were ranching in Fossil, Oregon, when my Mom wuz born. I’d bet this little song about Oregon originated during those years. Here are the words.
“Pat McCarty, hale and hearty,
Ranching in Oregon.
He heard a lot of “tawk”
About the great “New Yawk”
So, he left his farm where all was calm
And landed on Old Broadway.
He coaxed a pretty Mary.
They went into a swell cafe.
The waiter brought the card
And said, “What will you have to Pat?”
Pat looked at the prices
And, said, “I’ll take me hat.”
“Ere I go on, go-way, go which-a-go way
Go which-a-go way, go on.
I want to go back to Oregon.
Where you can buy the horses
Many a bale of hay
For what you have to pay
To feed a filly on Old Broadway.
I wanna go back to Oregon.”
***
That’s enuf whimsical nonsense for this week. Here are the words of wisdom: “My favorite childhood memory is my back not hurting.” Have a good ‘un.
