The best watermelon patch in the county
Was planted by my great Grandpa
He had a knack for growing the sweetest ones
The biggest and juiciest I ever saw
A hard-working man all of his life
He was a long-since retired coal miner
In his youth, his income was supplemented
By his sideline as a moon shiner
As people tend to do, he had mellowed with age
Their eight children had families of their own
Gone was the wild streak that once egged him on
All his wild oats had long ago been sown
We went to visit one day and I found him there
Sitting quietly among thousands of honeybees
He raised a huge garden and harvested that honey
Often taking long walks 'neath his chestnut trees
Grandpa's green thumb was the envy of many
As the old fellow sold chestnuts, melons and honey
I think the looks of delight on the customers' faces
Were more precious to him than the money
When we visited him in the summer time
He took us to his garden up on the hill
And let us each choose a melon of our very own
To this day, I remember that thrill
The juice from the melons and the honey from the comb
Still tickle my taste buds from the memories
Remembering the crunchy, sweet taste of chestnuts
And Grandpa strolling underneath his beloved trees
Kathleen McCoy Eldridge©
June 28, 2007
All Rights Reserved
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