Pigeon Forge was just a lazy town
When my Daddy was a lad;
A dirt road led to Gatlinburg
And traffic was never bad.
Daddy never could quite figure
Why folks flocked to his hometown,
Just to sit for hours in traffic
From sunup until sundown.
He’d shake his head in wonderment,
Saying he’d just stay at home.
A vacation sitting in a car
Was not worth the price to roam.
Then one day, he lost his temper
As he headed to the store,
Driving along the back-road route
As he always had before.
Traffic lined up to block his way,
Not letting anyone through.
When Daddy saw, he blocked the road
As he grunted, ‘I’ll show you!”
His old Ford truck sat Crossways there
As the main-road people swore;
He sat there, waving people on
Who had been blocked before.
The man behind my Dad was mad,
Said, “Old man, you can’t block me!”
“I’m retired,” my Daddy told him;
“Ain’t nowhere I need to be.”
copyright © 1998 by moleta ruth mccarter. all rights reserved.
