One of my recollections
As I recall the days of yore
Is a little house, behind the house,
With the crescent over the door.
Twas a place to sit an ponder
With your head bowed low
Knowing you wouldn't be there,
If you didn't haft to go.
Ours was a three holer
With a size for every one.
You left there feeling better,
After your usual job was done.
You had to make those frequent trips
Weather snow, rain, sleet or fog
To the little house where you usually
Found the Sears-Roebuck catalog.
Oft times in the dead of winter,
The seat was covered with snow.
Twas then with much reluctance,
To the little house you'd go.
With a swish you'd clear the seat,
Bend low, with dreadful fear
You'd blink your eyes and grit your teeth
As you settled on your rear.
I recall the day Granddad,
Who stayed with us one summer
Made a trip to the shanty
Which proved to be a hummer.
Twas the same day my Dad
finished painting the kitchen green
He'd just cleaned up the mess he'd made
With rags and gasoline.
He tossed the rags in the shanty hole
and went his usual way
Not knowing that by doing so
He would eventually ruin the day.
Now Granddad had an urgent call
I never will forget !
This trip he made to the little house
Lingers in my memory yet.
