Larry A. Lile Poetry

I heard the Osborn brothers sing a song, some forty years ago,
A song about a man and a truck, and down that hill he'd go.
I was riding with my daddy then, sitting in a old jump seat.
Going down thay highway, hauling, that Fisher meat.

Daddy drove a truck back then and every night he would go,
down to that slauter house and pick up another load.
I use to get to go with him, and it made me feel so neat,
to get to ride with my daddy, delivering that Fisher meat.

Every where that daddy went , folks seem'ed to know his name.
every store we came to, seem'ed glad that we came.
I met a lot of nice folk's then, that wore white coats to there knees.
folks that made there living, cutting that Fisher meat.

I heard that song again yesterday, on a bluegrass radio show.
i remembered hearing it the first time, going down this very same road.
but now its me driving the truck pulling a trailer with its load.
A load of meat,headed to a super store,that waiting for me to unload.

not a single soul in that store will, even know my name.
the people who i meet, when going there, are never the same.
people who try to make a living, unloading boxes stacked nice and neat.
not a soul who shops in that store ever knows who handeled there Fisher meat.

Poet: larry a. lile