I hadn't been up Thacker Hollow
In more years than I could remember
When I stopped on my way to Kentucky
On that warm day last September
It was strange there without Grandpa
To see the house broken down and bare
So many years since he's been gone
But I could still picture him there
Though some of the boards were missing
The old porch still surrounded the house
When he fell asleep in the porch swing
That old man was sure hard to rouse
Mostly he just sat there and whittled
While tobacco juice filled the spittoon
Grandpa lived well into his nineties
Yet his leaving was still much too soon
We always loved to go to his house
Though we didn't get to visit much
The trips were few and far between
But we still managed to stay in touch
As kids, we loved Grandpa's garden
Behind the big barn up on the hill
He always picked a ripe watermelon
And eating it there was such a thrill
A tall, lean man with a booming voice
Our Grandpa regaled us with his tall tales
Of moonshining, roaring twenties, mining coal
And the feud with all the gory details
I can still taste the wonderful breakfasts
He cooked like there was no tomorrow
Platters of biscuits, ham, bacon and eggs
Memories that fill my heart with sorrow
