My Daddy was a mountain man
Who’d look you in the eye;
His handshake would seal a promise
And he’d keep it, do or die.
Once a neighbor bummed some money
With a promise to repay,
Telling Dad he’d be back Friday,
But he never showed that day.
As the weeks went by, Dad watched him.
Driving by, he’d speed up fast.
Every day made Dad more angry
As the man kept driving past.
“T’ain’t the money,” Dad assured me;
“It’s the principle he broke.
A feller orta keep his promise;
Actions back up words he spoke.
Daddy stewed for days in silence,
Then said, “T’ll not sit and whine!”
Workin’, hammerin’, paintin’, cussin’,
He came back in with a sign.
Grinning sheepishly, he showed me
Temper Calm; no longer hot.
Daddy proudly held his sign up
It read bold: TEN DOLLARS SHOT!
Nailing it along the roadside
Where the fella passed each day,
Shaming him for all to see it;
He finally came forth to repay.
Daddy’s mountain ways were honest;
Grit and guts he did not lack.
Right or wrong, I’ll let you …
But he got his money back!
Copyright © 1998 by moleta ruth mccarter. All rights reserved.
