How Great The Yield From A Fertile Field

Random musings from an old farmer about life, agriculture, and faith

Monday, March 10, 2014

Poetry and Wages

The latest that I have heard is that this was the 4th coldest winter on record.  The winters of 77-78 and 78-79 were both colder and I remember them both.  Thankfully, it is starting to feel like spring, and now we can look forward to weeks of mud as the snow melts and the deep frost comes out of the ground.

My favorite Daughter-in-law brought me donuts last week.:)  She did a good job "finishing" them!

Since getting home from Texas, we have sang twice on the Zion's Harp recording project.  Once at the Rejoice Recordings studio, and once in Roanoke Church.

Saturday night we were going to eat out at Texas Roadhouse.  They told us there was a 2 hour wait.  Sorry, I don't think so.  Applebee's worked out just fine for us.

After our brush with Bonnie and Clyde in Texas, I have continued to do more research.  It turns out that Bonnie was good at creative writing in school, and she wrote a lot of poetry.  Some of her poetry was inspired by the women she met while serving some time, others by the lifestyle that she and Clyde chose.  They found much of her poetry in the rental house in Joplin that they narrowly escaped from when the police raided it.  The verse on her tombstone was from one of her poems.
 Here is one of her better known poems.

The Trail's End

You've read the story of Jesse James

of how he lived and died.
If you're still in need;
of something to read,
here's the story of Bonnie and Clyde.



Now Bonnie and Clyde are the Barrow gang
I'm sure you all have read.
how they rob and steal;
and those who squeal,
are usually found dying or dead.



There's lots of untruths to these write-ups;
they're not as ruthless as that.
their nature is raw;
they hate all the law,
the stool pidgeons, spotters and rats.



They call them cold-blooded killers
they say they are heartless and mean.
But I say this with pride
that I once knew Clyde,
when he was honest and upright and clean.



But the law fooled around;
kept taking him down,
and locking him up in a cell.
Till he said to me;
'I'll never be free,
so I'll meet a few of them in hell'



The road was so dimly lighted
there were no highway signs to guide.
But they made up their minds;
if all roads were blind,
they wouldn't give up till they died.



The road gets dimmer and dimmer
sometimes you can hardly see.
But it's fight man to man
and do all you can,
for they know they can never be free.



From heart-break some people have suffered
from weariness some people have died.
But take it all in all;
our troubles are small,
till we get like Bonnie and Clyde.



If a policeman is killed in Dallas
and they have no clue or guide.
If they can't find a fiend,
they just wipe their slate clean
and hang it on Bonnie and Clyde.



There's two crimes committed in America
not accredited to the Barrow mob.
They had no hand;
in the kidnap demand,
nor the Kansas City Depot job.



A newsboy once said to his buddy;
'I wish old Clyde would get jumped.
In these awfull hard times;
we'd make a few dimes,
if five or six cops would get bumped'



The police haven't got the report yet
but Clyde called me up today.
He said,'Don't start any fights;
we aren't working nights,
we're joining the NRA.'



From Irving to West Dallas viaduct
is known as the Great Divide.
Where the women are kin;
and the men are men,
and they won't 'stool' on Bonnie and Clyde.



If they try to act like citizens
and rent them a nice little flat.
About the third night;
they're invited to fight,
by a sub-gun's rat-tat-tat.



They don't think they're too smart or desperate
they know that the law always wins.
They've been shot at before;
but they do not ignore,
that death is the wages of sin.



Some day they'll go down together
they'll bury them side by side.
To few it'll be grief,
to the law a relief
but it's death for Bonnie and Clyde. 

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