Home-Made

It ain’t becuz I’m hungry,

     I git enough to eat,

But ev’ry day I hanker

     To hev a little treat.

It comes on ev’ry winter,

     Or, ruther, early fall,

And lasts till, well, I’ve hed it,

     Afore it goes at all.

Can’t git it in the city,

     The same ez on the farm,

The so-called home-made fodder

     Hain’t got no country charm.

‘Tain’t pie nor cake I’m after,

     Nur puddin’, by the way,

I want some home-made sausage

     To cheer me up today.

I want some home-made sausage

     Like mother used to chop;

An’ I hev got to hev it

     Afore this ache will stop.

The good ol’ juicy sausage

     From home-fed pigs an’ fruit;

Hain’t nothin’ else jest like it,

     Hain’t nothin’ else will suit.

Give me the home-made fodder,

     Give me the home-made soul;

It’s always satisfyin’,

     An’ fills a gapin’ hole.

It’s got the stuff right in it,

     It’s taste is boun’ to tell;

Give me some home-made sausage,

     An’ some home-made folks as well.

Oct. 20, ‘09