Title

I am making way too many blog posts lately.  Ah well, I suppose it will make up for the times when I can't think of a single thing to say.  

The title of the previous post referenced a delightful little book that Master gave me ages ago.  Here is a little excerpt:


Told by Frank Hembree, Galena, Mo., April, 1945. He heard it in the late 1890's. J.L. Russell, Harrison, Ark., spun me the same yarn in 1950; he says it was told near Green Forest, Ark., about 1885. 

 One time there was two farmers that lived out on the road to Carico. They was always good friends, and Bill's oldest boy had been a-sparking one of Sam's daughters. Everything was going fine till the morning they met down by the creek, and Sam was pretty goddam mad.

"Bill," says he, "from now on I don't want that boy of yours to set foot on my place."
"Why, what's he done?" asked the boy's daddy.
"He pissed in the snow, that's what he done, right in front of my house!"
But surely, there ain't no great harm in that," Bill says.
"No harm!" hollered Sam. "Hell's fire, he pissed so it spelled Lucy's name, right there in the snow!"
"The boy shouldn't have done that," says Bill. "But I don't see nothing so terrible bad about it."
"Well, by God, I do!" yelled Sam. "There was two sets of tracks! And besides, don't you think I know my own daughter's handwriting!"

More about this book:

Pissing in the Snow and other Ozark Folktales 


In case you are from another part of the world, and are wondering where the Ozarks are, they are in Missouri and Arkansas, back country areas.  My parents live near there.