I can recall back to the age of around four
We had a family reunion to look toward
A yearly journey out to Mississippi
To little Homewood in Scott County.
There wasn't much in the tiny town
Just the Methodist church and farms scattered around
With the old home place across up on the hill
The Stokes grocery and bus station on Highway thirty-five
Granny Bernice would sit in the kitchen with me
Proud of the picture I painted that she hung prominently
Pappa Earnest in his blue overalls was so patient
Caring not a bit his zinnia's we ran through and bent
And often with suitcases full of sorrow and hurt
The load was lightened by Uncle Curt
Who gave us his jovial wise advice with Aunt Grace
whistling an old hymn of a heavenly place
As even Lute would smile with that bulldog jowl
And one of Marzell's dogs under the porch would growl
Probably from one of the many cousins giving it a fit
Or perhaps Bill Wolf attempting to stuff it.
We knew when William Clark arrived in burgandy
That State was surely this year going to go undefeated
We just went along with the eternal hope
As Jimmy would roll that one lazy eye up
It was never a dull moment with Aunt Hazel around
Her and Aunt Irene match making any singles in town.
And how they loved to straighten up all us gone wrong
Telling it like it was in such a southern,lovely tone
At dusk without television or the electronic distractions
We would just sit on the long porch in full satisfaction
Left-overs plenty in the back kitchen for later on
Sad that come tomorrow we would journey toward home
That here at the end of that long lane life was good
That we would miss this crazy family come together
at a tiny place called
Homewood.
