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Ode to a Redneck

(A Reply to 'Cliff's Notes')

I shall not forget thee, my friend, dear Cliff,
Though sometimes my words make riddling riff.
A redneck's entitled, and so are you,
To see the meaning in phrases new.

When in the dictionary you have to look,
Think it akin to the Lord's Good Book,
In which you have read, or must have heard:
We're summoned both to praise the Word.

Each foray to the definitions there
Shall build suspense, so do not despair.
Enjoy if you will the lit'rate device,
Call it a "Cliffhanger" if that will suffice.

This precedent for us is set before:
That even our Savior loved metaphor.
Words are a treat, though none know them all,
And more in my noggin I'd love to install.

For when vocabulary wax and grow,
A living lexicon might I bestow.
Let language, then, her heritage proclaim
As "words, words, words," [1] of Hamlet's game.

I've nothing 'gainst rednecks, I have been twice
To your blessèd land and Paradise,
That rustic homestead of hearth and mirth,
Of humble origins yet heavenly worth.

Though oft I scorn another of your tribe
With dissing dialect and diatribe,
That fellow's from Texas, not Tennessee.
There's worlds of diff'rence 'twixt him and thee:

You love the land and till the soil,
He rustles votes, the land to soil.
You're a southern gent of gentlefolk,
And he a fool who shuns the yoke.

With this Southern motto let him be sung:
A strutting turkey shall get himself hung.
Until that day when he falls from grace,
You're a far finer redneck whom I embrace.




The poems on this website are protected by U.S. copyright law and registered with the U.S. Library of Congress.
Please direct any requests for publication, in whatever form or medium, to the author, Ian Reed, at tango_poet@hotmail.com (212) 841-0341.