SAILOR

James Michael Taylor

SAILOR

“Welcome John Teeters, Marion County high school quarterback, 1939.” What goes up must come down. Tie a string to a June bug and he flies round and round. Want get a job, you gotta drive into town. Catch a big catfish ya gotta drag him on the ground. When Aunt Connie makes a boysenberry pie. One big slice will make a grown man cry. Wanna make a friend you gotta look ‘em in the eye. And don’t say you can’t ‘til you give it a try. Gotta pick the okra at the bottom of the hill. Fry it up with corn meal and a butter milk. Model T Ford is the best, I say. I’m not the kinda guy to drive a Chevrolet. “One, two, three, four, who you gonna yell for? Five, six, seven, eight, who do you appreciate. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve, put the trophy on the shelf.” “Hey, John! Wiggle your ears.” Going to Chattanooga, going to join the Navy. Talk to the recruiter, said I’ll sail the South Sea. Drop a can a whoop ass on the Japanese. Then I’ll go and kink some ass in Germany. Sister was a crying just the other day. So, I reassured her I will be okay. There’s a time for work and a time for play. Some things to do and some things to say. I’m gonna be a sailor and I’m gonna sail away. Gonna fight, fight, fight for the USA. One, two, three, four, who you gonna fight for. Five, six, seven, eight, who do you appreciate. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve, send the enemy to hell. “Oh, say can you see.” Family got a picture down at Olan Mills. Johnny’s kinda blurry ‘cause he wouldn’t stand still.
(C) 2008 Royal T Music