Early life on the Tombigbee was certainly exciting, and in the rush and bustle of today it is only natural that some will still yearn for The good old days.

Now we've heard about the pioneers,
And all the things they've done.
Now comes the time to let down our hair,
And have a little fun.

So will all past age fifty,
Will you hold up your hand?
If you wouldn't fall apart,
I'd ask you to stand.

Now you know I'm just kidding,
You can tell for yourself,
I, too, am an antique,
Not quite on the shelf.

Many of us have our store-bought parts,
Dentures, glasses, and pacemaker hearts.
But keeping repaired isn't really a sin,
We're doing pretty well for the shape we're in.

So sit back and relax, and reminisce,
And think about life back when.
There was time to sit on the wide front porch,
And rock in the sun and wind.

There was plenty of time to knit or read,
Or to lose oneself in a book.
Sure, we have big rockers on our porches today,
But aren't they mostly for looks?

Grandma's furniture is now rare antique,
And we value it more every day.
But there was a time when we thought it old style,
And wanted it all stored away.

How many remember the high feather beds,
Where you sank down and eased every pain?
Doctors today say they caused backache,
But did grandma ever complain?

It took quite some talent to make up those beds,
With their sinks, valleys, and lumps.
But grandma had just the right knack,
To smooth out the knots and the bumps.

Did you ever drink any sassafras tea,
To cure most every ill?
Did you ever wear a mustard plaster,
Instead of taking a pill?

Now these were grandma's remedies,
And they usually worked for you.
Cause that tender loving care she gave,
Would always pull you through.

She served you glasses of cold sweet milk,
And teacakes stacked on a tray.
Those were the good old days, my friend,
That we still talk about today.

How many remember the one-room school,
Where the teacher ruled with a stick?
But every child learned how to read and write,
And do their arithmetic.

Lunch was carried in the molasses can,
The boys cut the wood for the term.
Everyone drank from the same gourd dipper,
Never had heard of a germ.

The water came from a cold, bubbling spring,
Or a well with a wooden pail.
And every house had the yard fenced in,
With either pickets or rails.

And out in the back, stood that little old shack,
With the writing on the wall.
Where someone wrote when the old hen would hatch,
Or the calf was due in the fall.

Now grandma had no Charmin to squeeze,
But she never seemed to care.
She would always pick her spring wardrobe,
From the Sears-Roebuck catalog there.

The roads were all dirt, and the winter rains,
Made ruts so muddy and deep.
And wagons and buggies stuck in the mud,
If the hill was a little bit steep.

And nothing could beat a night buggy ride,
With old Nellie slowed down to a walk.
We'd smooch and spoon, neath the southern moon,
Knowing that horse couldn't talk.

But then came the Model T,
And heated up the ride,
Travel became much faster then,
But so did the kids inside.

Without enough hours in the day,
Many have erased the past from their minds,
As they go on their merry way.

But we should never forget those good old days,
When conveniences weren't even heard of.
There was heaps of living in a house back then,
And an overabundance of love.

So all you young ones take warning,
Some day you will look back, too.
And the way you are living these days,
Will be the good old days to you.

(At this point in the tape, the preceding poem is recorded a second time)