A Fiddler's Dream, by Fred Warner. 11/12/2018
Meanwhile, O’er at “Old Dan Tucker’s”, I run into “Bill Cheatham” and “Old Joe Clark”.
They were acting like a “Bully of the Town” tryin’ to get “Black Eyed Suzie” to look at ‘em,
but she was more interested in “Cottoneyed Joe” and told the boys “I Don’t Love Nobody”.
He’d found a “Cuckoo’s Nest” in “Cripple Creek” and told “The Dusty Miller” about it,
but by the time he come up from “Down Yonder”, it was “Done Gone”.
I hollered “Get Up John”, but he was still in his “Golden Slippers” saying “Goodbye Liza Jane”
when there come a “Hell Amongst the Yearlings” up on “Jerusalem Ridge”.
I took some “Liberty” and cried out “Hop Light Ladies” while the “Little Beggarman”
was shoutin’ “Don”t Let Your Deal Go Down” but “The Cattle in the Cane”
chased “Billy in the Lowground” all the way up “Bitter Creek” under a
“Georgiana Moon” around “Midnight on the Water”.
It was an awful “Fiddler’s Dream” to be sure! You don’t “Say Old Man”!
They were acting like a “Bully of the Town” tryin’ to get “Black Eyed Suzie” to look at ‘em,
but she was more interested in “Cottoneyed Joe” and told the boys “I Don’t Love Nobody”.
He’d found a “Cuckoo’s Nest” in “Cripple Creek” and told “The Dusty Miller” about it,
but by the time he come up from “Down Yonder”, it was “Done Gone”.
I hollered “Get Up John”, but he was still in his “Golden Slippers” saying “Goodbye Liza Jane”
when there come a “Hell Amongst the Yearlings” up on “Jerusalem Ridge”.
I took some “Liberty” and cried out “Hop Light Ladies” while the “Little Beggarman”
was shoutin’ “Don”t Let Your Deal Go Down” but “The Cattle in the Cane”
chased “Billy in the Lowground” all the way up “Bitter Creek” under a
“Georgiana Moon” around “Midnight on the Water”.
It was an awful “Fiddler’s Dream” to be sure! You don’t “Say Old Man”!
The Lonesome Cello's Lullaby
A poem by Frederick Warner, Copyright October 30, 2018
The olden cello sings its’ lonesome lullaby
The darker the strains, the more it seems to cry
Not a Siren from the seas nor an angel from on High
Can soothe the pains of its’ lonesome lullaby
Cry, oh mighty cello, cry your mournful song
Wail, oh mighty cello, wail the evening long
Not a Siren from the seas nor an angel from on High
Could e’er soothe the pains of your lonesome lullaby.
The olden cello sings its’ lonesome lullaby
The darker the strains, the more it seems to cry
Not a Siren from the seas nor an angel from on High
Can soothe the pains of its’ lonesome lullaby
Cry, oh mighty cello, cry your mournful song
Wail, oh mighty cello, wail the evening long
Not a Siren from the seas nor an angel from on High
Could e’er soothe the pains of your lonesome lullaby.
Come Live With Us Awhile.
I co-authored this poem with my mother, Shirley Warner.
Come Live With Us Awhile.
Copyright 1962 Shirley & Fred Warner
You think that You've got troubles?
Come and live with Us awhile!
They ain't a filthy hog pen built
That's got more "class" and "style".
I've got no modern do-dabs
To help me with my task
(To keep my mind from crackin',
Is all of life I ask.)
Runnin' water? Sure thing!
If I grab myself a pail
And run up to the neighbors
An' hope my heart don't fail!
Bathroom? - ain't no sech thing
You mean a place inside to sit?
Only "city folks" have them.
We go outside to _________!
There's wood to get, an' fires to keep,
An' a thousand other chores.
Then walk a mile to get the milk
(Our milk comes from the stores)
Three dogs to feed, let in, and out,
'N sweep up dirt an' hair.
No place to sit when company comes;
The dogs each have a chair!
No way to wash; machine won't work
The laundry piles up high.
You wonder why when washday comes,
I set right down an' cry?
The floors are wood, with cracks so wide
The snow blows right up thru.
I shiver, shake, and sneeze, and cough.
My lips are always blue.
Got the fire full blast in the parlor stove
But cannot feel the heat.
Who was the crazy nut who said,
"A wood-fire can't be beat."?
It really ain't worth while
When there's no dry wood to burn
To try so hard to start a fire
I guess I'll never learn.
I'm plum worn out from workin' so.
Can't take it any more!
If I kin get thru past this mess
I'll run right out the door.
If anyone comes lookin',
Or comes callin' me by name.
You tell 'em what I think of it
"--A gull-derned blasted shame."
"To make a poor old lady,
Who's agin' 'fore her time,
Live in sech an awful dump
That ain't worth one thin dime."
Tell my man I've gone an' left him.
He can get some other fool.
I'm headin' fer a modern place
That ain't so dad-blamed cool!
Come Live With Us Awhile.
Copyright 1962 Shirley & Fred Warner
You think that You've got troubles?
Come and live with Us awhile!
They ain't a filthy hog pen built
That's got more "class" and "style".
I've got no modern do-dabs
To help me with my task
(To keep my mind from crackin',
Is all of life I ask.)
Runnin' water? Sure thing!
If I grab myself a pail
And run up to the neighbors
An' hope my heart don't fail!
Bathroom? - ain't no sech thing
You mean a place inside to sit?
Only "city folks" have them.
We go outside to _________!
There's wood to get, an' fires to keep,
An' a thousand other chores.
Then walk a mile to get the milk
(Our milk comes from the stores)
Three dogs to feed, let in, and out,
'N sweep up dirt an' hair.
No place to sit when company comes;
The dogs each have a chair!
No way to wash; machine won't work
The laundry piles up high.
You wonder why when washday comes,
I set right down an' cry?
The floors are wood, with cracks so wide
The snow blows right up thru.
I shiver, shake, and sneeze, and cough.
My lips are always blue.
Got the fire full blast in the parlor stove
But cannot feel the heat.
Who was the crazy nut who said,
"A wood-fire can't be beat."?
It really ain't worth while
When there's no dry wood to burn
To try so hard to start a fire
I guess I'll never learn.
I'm plum worn out from workin' so.
Can't take it any more!
If I kin get thru past this mess
I'll run right out the door.
If anyone comes lookin',
Or comes callin' me by name.
You tell 'em what I think of it
"--A gull-derned blasted shame."
"To make a poor old lady,
Who's agin' 'fore her time,
Live in sech an awful dump
That ain't worth one thin dime."
Tell my man I've gone an' left him.
He can get some other fool.
I'm headin' fer a modern place
That ain't so dad-blamed cool!
The Calamities on St. Patrick's Day.
Here's another poem I co-authored with my mother.
The Calamities on St. Patrick's Day. Copyright 1962 Shirley and Fred Warner
Didja hear about ole Mrs. Murphy?
She cooked overalls in her stew!
And her poor ole man went up to bed
And died in an hour or two.
Didja hear about Patrick and Mulligan
Who shot 'til each other was dead?
And the psychiatrist who examined them
Said they were only "sick" in the head!
Didja hear about Timmy Maloney
Who was doin' the Irish Jig?
He danced so hard, - he fell apart -
That's his grave they're just startin' to dig!
Didja hear about Mike and O'Grady?
They've both come down with the flu!
The "wearin' o' the green" won't be the same
Without the likes of those two!
Didja hear about Kathleen Reilly?
The one who married O'Toole?
She's packed up an' left - gone home to her folks -
She said that he called her a fool!
Didja hear about Mrs. O'Leary
Who died when she milked her cow?
They said that it kicked her - That's not the truth.
She drowned in the pail - That's how!
Didja hear about Kelly and Casey
Who fell in the Lake of Killarney?
It's just like the whole of this poem -
(I've fed you a mess of Blarney)!
The Calamities on St. Patrick's Day. Copyright 1962 Shirley and Fred Warner
Didja hear about ole Mrs. Murphy?
She cooked overalls in her stew!
And her poor ole man went up to bed
And died in an hour or two.
Didja hear about Patrick and Mulligan
Who shot 'til each other was dead?
And the psychiatrist who examined them
Said they were only "sick" in the head!
Didja hear about Timmy Maloney
Who was doin' the Irish Jig?
He danced so hard, - he fell apart -
That's his grave they're just startin' to dig!
Didja hear about Mike and O'Grady?
They've both come down with the flu!
The "wearin' o' the green" won't be the same
Without the likes of those two!
Didja hear about Kathleen Reilly?
The one who married O'Toole?
She's packed up an' left - gone home to her folks -
She said that he called her a fool!
Didja hear about Mrs. O'Leary
Who died when she milked her cow?
They said that it kicked her - That's not the truth.
She drowned in the pail - That's how!
Didja hear about Kelly and Casey
Who fell in the Lake of Killarney?
It's just like the whole of this poem -
(I've fed you a mess of Blarney)!
Long Forgotten Day.
Long Forgotten Day. Copyright 1969 Fred Warner
Whitened
Bones of Humanity
Washed ashore
Dregs of life -
Naked
and unashamed
Vomit of the poor
Friendship
Wounded - and dying
Writhing in anguish, and crawling away
and I knew not
That it was
inflicted by
Ill
Spoken
Words
On a long forgotten day.
Whitened
Bones of Humanity
Washed ashore
Dregs of life -
Naked
and unashamed
Vomit of the poor
Friendship
Wounded - and dying
Writhing in anguish, and crawling away
and I knew not
That it was
inflicted by
Ill
Spoken
Words
On a long forgotten day.