Home.

Tyrone Graham
thewrytr.
Published in
2 min readSep 20, 2017

I’ve traveled far, I’ve seen war
I’ve seen the sea ships roam
I’ve come back now from afar
There’s just no place like home.

A man gets the traveling itch
When he’s young and still green
Now I know what is which
And know how blind I’ve been.

Home is where the waters flow
Where the fish bite all day
Where crops die and weeds grow
And each man goes his own way.

The first sight I saw down here
Was Job sitting under a tree
Same as when I left that year
Nothing’s changed, far as I can see.

When Job stirred himself to speak
I knew what he would say;
He said it every day each week
But it’s still as bright as May:

“Tomorrow’s soon enough to farm
There ain’t no call for haste
Days are getting kind of warm
Can’t let shade go to waste.”

It takes a lot of sweat
To work things in your head
A man’s innards gotta be wet
Or he’s gon’ wind up dead.

You got to watch your step
That road’s just full of holes
Man needs some hundred-proof pep
Without the spirit, no man is whole.

Things here go so slow
You can sleep a year or two
And still know all there is to know
Everything past and all that’s new.

Well, Sam’s got a new redbone
Weevils got in the cotton again
There’s nothing to beat corn pone
Widow Fowler got drowned in rain.

Cousin Ed just left his Ma
And went up to the city
He took along his ol’ gitar
He’s gon’ make it in Ole Opry.

Nothing much else has taken place
Sure quiet up in these parts
Ol’ Matthew won that last-wins race
That man’s gon’ get rich fast.

We might go frog-hunting tonight
And tomorrow’s a red-letter day
A hound and bobcat’s gonna fight
Just hope my bet will pay.

Well, I’m waiting for sundown
That’s the time you can’t compare
The boys get up off the ground
And there’s magic in the air.

When the day’s work is done
When all your troubles make tracks
And are gone with the sun
There comes the time to relax.

You lean back in your rocker
And help kill that Mason jar
The tales they tell grow taller
And happiness is no distant star.

Yes sir, this life’s for me
You’ll never catch me roaming again
This is the place to be
I know what I didn’t know then.

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Tyrone Graham
thewrytr.

In the beginning was the word. And I got paid for it.