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A Cracker Woman's Life

Artist: Pasco Pat

Category: Americana, Singer/songwriter



This song has been applauded 3 times!
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Description: A Cracker Woman’s Life

Come and listen to my story ‘bout a cracker man’s wife, I’ll tell you how it was to live a cracker woman’s life.

She made buttermilk and butter in a wooden barrel churned, she poured tallow in a mold for the candles that she burned.

Pretty blue eyes with her hair tied back. She wore a homespun dress made from cotton sacks.

Fancy buttons cut from gourds, a palmetto hat, she was a jewel - but she never ever dwelled on that.

She had a long-legged husband with the saddest eyes. He wore a ragged shirt and pants a little smaller than his size.

Hunched up shoulders, a caved-in chest, a little pot belly and his hair was just a mess.

She met him one night at a cracker breakdown. They danced ‘til dawn to the cracker fiddle sound.

She loved him even though he always had an empty purse. She trusted him and followed him for better and for worse. Trusted him and followed him for better and for worse.

He had a two-wheeled covered wagon that he pulled with an ox. He had a pipe-smokin’ granny with shaggy white locks.

He took to stealin’ cattle from Seminole braves. He never had schoolin’ but he never owned slaves.

Always looking for a place near a creek or a spring, never stayed in any spot for long for anything.

Wild turkey in the hammock, wild hogs in the dells, but he rarely had the money for - - shotgun shells.

They built a saddlebag shack with an open dog trot where the heat from the stove didn’t get so hot.

Sand gnats, ‘skeeters, deer flies too came in through the windows came down through the flue.

Palmetto fans made a pretty good roof, kept their home nice and cool - but it wasn’t pest proof.

The lizards and the frogs found their way inside from the thatch palm leaves where they loved to hide. The thatch palm leaves where they loved to hide.

Water from the spring flowing cool and clear, a cypress knee bucket with a dipper stood near by the door with a 7-foot hardwood pole, always ready for a trip to the waterin’ hole.

Stuffed her little boy’s mattress with corn shucks and moss, he slept through the night – he never turned, he never tossed.

Bay tree bark when she boiled it down, dyed her baby’s bonnet tan and her daughter’s cloak brown. Her baby’s bonnet tan and her daughter’s cloak brown.

Cornpone, grits, cooters and greens, guinea hens, rice and greasy navy beans,
Hog jowls and peas on New Year’s Eve, possum only in the wintertime if you please!

She boiled them chickens over open fires in the tangled scrub forest all the smoke would rise.

She went to a perleu every chance she could, ‘cause sharing with her neighbors made her feel so good.
Sharin’ with her neighbors made her feel so good.

And that’s my story ‘bout a cracker man’s wife, I’ve told you how it was to live a cracker woman’s life.

Without the magic wonders of the modern world she survived all the perils of the pioneer girl.

Pretty blue eyes with her hair tied back. She wore a homespun dress made from cotton sacks.

Fancy buttons cut from gourds, a palmetto hat, she was a jewel - but she never ever dwelled on that.
You can bet she never ever dwelled on that.

Submitted: December 24, 2017 1:16PM


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