Velma always found
some way,
To cook a goose or bring in a stray.
Dressing up to go to the store,
Was easy in the city. No chore.
But, the roads of mud and gumbo there,
Made travel impossible where
Cattle truck’s weight pushed gravel out,
No travel not even on Sunday for the devout.
That little woman was not to be deterred,
Not even by a road pocked by a herd.
She dressed herself in soft, finery, feminine,
Wore her rubber boots over dainty shoes for women.
Pulled the throttle out on that old truck,
While we pushed it through that muck.
I remember yet how the conservative folk did stare
As Velma walked through the country store with flair.
