Saturday, August 29, 2009

This, Jobe, is your last chance




I live on a farm between Nolensville and Triune where a historical marker tells the short version of Private Dee Jobe








Many good men who passed the spot


Would think of Jobe and the deal he got,


Or cross themselves like nuns.


And say, on nights when the dark clouds toss,


Can you hear the clatter of a runnin' hoss?


Oh, Lawdy! What's the matter? But nobody talks.


The clatter stops and the ghost hoss walks.


It's the Yankees teachin' Dee Jobe who's boss


.... At the point of 15 guns.










No comments:

Related Posts with Thumbnails