Mad Jack Hanks: Tales from the O-NO Ranch 9-26-11
September 27, 2011
“Mr. Davis, this is pastor Savasoul, and I understand that you have a set of bagpipes that you play for funerals … is that right?”
“Yes sir, I do that from time to time.”
“Well, sir, I have a favor to ask of you,” offered the pastor.
“What would that be?”
“There is an old homeless man that has lived in the woods here in East Texas all his life. He has no friends or kin that I am aware of and he passed away last week. I am going to meet the grave diggers out in the woods this afternoon and we are going to bury him. I would like for you to bring your bagpipes and meet me there and play Amazing Grace when we put him down. I can’t pay you much, but I will come up with something if you could do that for me.”
“Well, I reckon I could do that for the poor ol’ soul. Where is the funeral gonna’ be?”
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“Git a pencil and paper and I’ll give you directions,” offered the pastor, “it’s in the woods and kinda’ hard to find.”
Mr. Davis wrote down the directions and left an hour early as he didn’t want to be late. He drove and he drove, round and round, through the woods and was lost and also late when he finally saw a half dozen men leaning on shovels over a hole off in the distance. He drove up to find the pastor had already gone. He got out his bagpipes, walked up to the hole and saw a concrete vault in the bottom. He softly began to play Amazing Grace and noticed that these gravediggers began to tear up somewhat. In fact one of these tough ol’ coggers began to openly weep. He too began to cry a little as he finished his melody. By now all of these six men were crying as he walked back to his car to put away his bagpipes.
As he opened the back door of his car he heard one of these men remark, “that’s the first time I ever heard anyone pay homage to a septic tank.”
I thought that was a cute little story I could share with you gentle readers.
Now, it’s up on the roof to clean out the stovepipe and order up some firewood. It won’t be long until the white stuff starts to fly. My ol’ cold is better but hard to shake. Lots of that nasty ol’ stuff goin’ around, I hope you can miss it all together.
Stay tuned, check yer cinch on occasion and I’ll c. y’all, all y’all!