Tight to the Jar

It's a ditch, okay, I have shoes and a blanket
My head resting light on a stone
Though it's hard it's still rounded with a pocket for
Brains or what goes for in halls under roof tile
We'll sing another blistering ballad for grandma
Melody sweet till it rolls out the ear
And the beer flows free as advice
With a tight hand holding the jar

The mud cakes my chin strap, fills up my cuffs
As I plod, now, from creek edge to street side
As it dries I can whittle it little by little
"Hey, look, now I'm light as a bee"
Those gray clouds mean nothing to one such as I
Though shadows stand tall as some school master whack
On the back of a well intentioned quiet kid
Arms held fast to the jar

And it's slow, so slow the idea
The coming around of a sensible word
It hovers and shakes like a hummingbird wing
At the end of a long hot year

Fry up that supper, we'll kill it for breakfast
Turn the table down side and crazy
With the legs up, the women up, the men up to Church for the spirit,
The hen yard, the bent steel Tack wrap
It's a ditch, yeah, I know that. And, I do wonder
How that bright faced, ten year old me of a boy
Found the road out I never could see
With my eyes held tight to the jar