A Magpie Tale

I seen this purdy pitcher

On one of them sites today

And dang if it didn’t stump me good

Cause I can’t find no words to say.

Poor un-cultured Southern gal

Didn’t have a tale to tell

I just had to sit down quick

‘Fore I had a fainting spell

That lead me to a ponderin

maybe I’d take another look

Shoot that just got me hungry

Threw hankering on me to cook

Cuz about them French, I ain’t never knowed

A single thang a t’all

Excepting that they sure do make good taters

Deeped fried in some good old oiwl.

Yessiree that knife would shore be handy

But now that plate was a different matter

It had a hole slap down the middle

Ain’t worth a cuss for a French fry platter.

So I reckoned I’d just quit a staring

Didn’t want to have no hissy fit

Till I had this reviving revelation

Lord have mercy, that’s whur the ketchup sits.