being myself the best way I can

Canned Peaches

I can smell fresh peaches, the cooker’s heatin’ up

Steam shrouds the kitchen as my mother fills a cup

Sugar hits the boilin’ water, syrup turns light gold

Tools are all scalded, the crew’s ready to go


It might be green beans, other times it’s corn

Ready up the pickles, ‘maters red on the farm

Nibblin’ carrots ‘n’ berries on hot and sultry days

Didn’t much like turnips but zucchini seemed OK


Dad liked somethin’ new, we were never sure

If he ate it ‘n’ didn’t die, we’d usually try the cure

We learned we could take the tiger by the tail

From pickled peppers, brussel sprouts, cabbages and kale


One day my parents said, we’re gonna can some beef

We were goggle-eyed, confused, lost in unbelief

Fall days of campin’, Mother’d cook us up a mess…

Canned beef ‘n’ egg noodles, might’ve been the best.


Cannin’ up the garden in the old ball-mason jars

Look ahead to winter and the north wind’s wars

The cold’ll try to beat us and the snow’ll hide the stars

We’ll be eatin’ canned peaches, tellin’ lies and swappin’ yarns

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