Ezra

Ezra city Alabama Alt. 498 Pop. 2305

Well, I ain’t tore up much, since leavin’ Gidea pen
- lost a job on a chicken farm and hit the road again -
hitched it here to Sion on the back of a pickup-truck
shared it with a brood hog, I gets the same ol’ luck.

If on'y I could read a line or count past seventeen
I’d get a job with a roof on and keep mah hands clean.
If I could get a go-around, I’d sure keep outta bars
- drink a sight more OJ than ‘shine from mason jars.

I walk the dirt in borrowed shoes and a coat as old as me;
I sleep behind a dumpster if I cain’t find a tree.
They’s times I wish I had a wife, times I‘s glad I’ve none,
I wish I had a fam’ly to greet this pro'gal son.