I went out to weed wack under the big tree.
And there, in the tall grass, what should I see?
A long sinewy body; a short stubby head;
a black snake for sure, just what I dread.
I looked around; no rescuers in sight.
No one to save me from terrible fright.
I screamed loud enough to raise the dead
and then a new thought came into my head.
Why wasn't that serpent slithering away?
Did he think I came out with a weed wacker to play?
If he didn't move, I'd give him a whack.
He'd see stars and shriek, "Oh, my poor back."
Emboldened with power, I took a step toward him
and saw with relief that it was only a tree limb.
Lenny came running, "Was all that noise you?"
"You bet," I said, "When I see a snake, it's what I do."
The kitties were scared; they ran for cover;
a loud machine had a hold of their mother.
There were weeds and vines and limbs and stuff,
all those things that make me tough.
I weed wacked on, prepared to fight
with any critter who wouldn't take flight.
But all I got for my bravery and zeal
was wacked weeds and a blister on my heel.
A true story, written 4/27/01, on the farm, Neosho, MO
The finished product!
Jan and Lenny Antonsson
17178 Highway 59, Neosho, MO 64850 (Snail Mail)
The Glory Road
We always enjoy hearing from you!
This page was edited and uploaded to the web
by Jan Antonsson, Webmeister, on 4/27/01
and last edited on 6/29/09.