Days start early in the mountains;
Plantin’ starts at break of morn.
I liked workin’ in the garden,
But I sure hated shuckin’ corn!
Pulling corn ears was like fighting;
We would grunt and twist and pry.
Bushel baskets filled with sweet corn
Seemed to grow and multiply.
Blistered hands and sunburned faces,
Corn silk covered from head to toe;
But our work had only started –
We still had shuckin’ corn to go!
If you’ve never had to shuck corn,
Count your blessings; it ain’t fun!
Corn silk worms and endless corn silk
Will be your lot until you’re done.
I vowed my shuckin’ days were over;
When I grew up, I never would
Shuck no corn, and I ain’t never;
I have quit that job for good.
Do I like corn? Yes, indeed so!
Will I shuck it? Never again!
The grocery store has canned and frozen,
Creamed and kernelled; I’II buy them.
Life don’t always run so smoothly,
And sometimes on a dreary morn,
The job I’m facing sure reminds me
An awful lot of shuckin’ corn.
Copyright © 2006 by moleta ruth mccarter. All rights reserved.
