Southern Comforts

Southern Comforts                                      September 28, 2013

'Tis Autumn at the peaks of the Great Smoky Mount,

And the leaves are the colors of flames.

The Summer hath died, 'tis now only pigskin games;

Ergo, the heat hath been cool'd for the fall!

The Valley Fair and its fried foods,

And the rides take me for a whirl.

Autumn is here to temper our moods,

Let me dance to the fiddler and unfurl!

Southern comforts, we hardly know you,

For you come but one lonely time per year.

Twelve weeks is all upon our countenances in lieu,

Our stream of consciousness doth seem to sear!

Let us break our bread in the fellowship hall!

Let us never waste a moment again!

So long as there are fairs and the flying pigskin ball,

I shall always fancy my toothy grin!

Chili and pumpkin pie will be at the bonfire tonight!

Let the pixies sing a jig and dance!

It may be dark, but I do see His Light,

As my contingent commences to run and prance!

Let us seize the day the Scots-Irish way,

'Tis the only way we know how;

Worry not what others shall have in ill to say,

Around here, there are but one or two cow!

O' Southern comforts! How do you do?

I really must say I miss seeing you, too!

August turns to September but once in a year,

Much to the chagrin of a Volunteer's tear!

Let there never be a day when the rooster crows,

When you fail to awaken with the taste of the mountain dew,

When your love for the lady hath grew and grew,

Fair Dolly, please sing to me on cue!