Mercy gracious! Here it is, Labor Day already!

The end of summer, and beginning of the fall season. Before you can spell turkey, it’ll be THAT time.

So, let’s fire up the grill, we’ll cook up a meal, and celebrate the end of the season! Oops! Poetry already! Sorry ‘bout that! Just can’t help it!

My son does the grillin’ while I sit there chillin’,

and watch the master at work.

When I do the fire, I’d be a liar,

to say I’ve never been hurt!

As he does his thing, we all stand and sing

Those family songs we all know!

Soon, the coals will get right, all fiery and bright,

And our meal will soak up the glow!

Go put on your bibs, here comes the ribs,

All juicy, spicy and neat!

There’s kabobs and “taters”, peppers and “maters”

And goodies along with  the meat!

With any luck, we’ll have corn “in the shuck,”

And it’ll be tender, juicy and hot!

I’ll tear off the shuck, and with any luck’

That ear will get all that I’ve got!

I’ve always liked corn, from the day I was born,

I like to eat it right off the cob!

What’s  really some fun, is letting butter run,

Down my sleeve in a really big blob!

It drips from my chin, right after I begin,

And gets all over my shirt.

If it gets on my clothes, good heavens knows,

What in the world would it hurt!

I’ve heard of some knobs, that cut corn from the cob,

But they miss all the fun with the butter!

A plate full of corn, just don’t blow my horn,

And to me, that’s a big bummer!

If you’re really bright, and like to do things right,

Just pull an ear right off the stalk!

Go cook it right then, feed the shucks to the hen,

and give Ol’ Raymond a call!!

I hope that you’re summer, wasn’t a bummer,

And that your fall season turns out for the best.

Now, I’ll take off my bib, as I’m stuffed full of ribs

And go lay on the sofa and rest!

(after I wash up!)





  1. Your poem describes it to a “T”. As for fall, it’s my favorite time of the year. The Master Painter takes brush in hand and puts on His beautiful array of colors and makes us all “Ooh and Aah” at his display. In human years, that’s about where I am I guess – the autumn of my life. Storing up for winter and the approaching end of another year. Great poem Ray. I love it.

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