Wednesday, June 17, 2009


No one knows where it started
Or the date when it first began
It is definetely clear, however,
That it affects both woman and man

"Country Crazies," has them all
The older and the younger
And no quilt or grape-vine wreath
Can satisfy the hunger

From shop to shop they wander
In search of the ultimate, "fix"
But only succeed in easing the pangs
With a chair of willow sticks

Wild-eyed and trembling slightly
They are always on the loose
Reaching out with shaky hands
For a teddy bear or a goose

What the poor addicted suffer
Is not fit for the lips to speak
The burning need for an Amish doll
Is enough to render them weak

What will happen if they're deprived
Of a wooden-hearts sweet pleasure
Or denied the satisfaction
Of a new-found treasure

Why, they'll riot that's what
You can't fight desires so keen
Americana urges won't be stilled
Nor the quest for a Kitchen Queen

So relax rag-rug devotees
And Baby's Breath lovers all
A smorgasbord hypodermic awaits
To answer your hunters call

In old re-vamped Victorians
Shopkeepers join the daft
Selling, while longing to keep
Tin ware and stencil craft

The disesase is wide spread
With so many affected
That not an attic or garrett
Has gone undetected

Good Gracious! I'm feeling strange
Could I have the "Country" disorder?
Yes, I'm sinking fast-while gripping
A cloth with the, "Schoolhouse" border

1 comment:

  1. Great poem, yes, the "country crazies" are still to be found in the thrift shops, garage sales,and their relatives attics and basements!