Yield: A couple pranksters
My story about the Washington state ranching couple who pulled pranks on “gun free” retailers in the Seattle area, prompted a response from ol’ Lowe Beamer from Nebraska.
Lowe wrote: “A couple years ago when your Platte City, Mo., buddy Canby Handy, came out to Holdrege, we were going to get down to the local Eagles Club, but ran out of time. I was reminded of it when you wrote your ‘No Concealed Weapons’ article in your most recent column.
“One of the trustees at the Eagles posted a note on both doors of the establishment stating that ‘No Guns Allowed On Premises.’ I guess he didn’t count the Henry Golden Boy hanging over the bar as first prize in a raffle, raising funds for our cancer charity.
“Another trustee asked why the signs were necessary — had we had problems with guns in the past? The sign-poster replied, ‘No, but I want to avoid them in the future.’
“So the second trustee gets a couple of pieces of paper and a magic marker and posts ‘No Rhinoceros Allowed On Premises.’ He turned to his counterpart and said ‘I know we haven’t had any in here in the past, but I want to avoid problems with them in the future. Jist cain’t be too careful!’
His point was taken and both sets of signs came down.”
Lowe continued with a story about his mom and quaint old songs that she knew and shared with him, just like my Grandma Ann did for me. He wrote:
“Mom was a depression-era poet also, like your grandma Ann, and used to sing us little kids old songs from that era or quote us poems as we were gardening or picking chickens or taking food out to the fields. A couple that I know were not of her invention were:
“My boarding house, so dear, I’ve been there for many a year
Where they serve the grub upon the 2nd floor.
There’s a coffin in the parlor and a graveyard in the cellar
And the undertaker’s place is right next door.
The donuts, they are wooden and they serve limburger puddin’
And they kneel in prayer before they come to grub.
If you chance to get a wheeze of that old baloney and cheese
You’d have sweared somebody hit you with a club.
The hotdogs they do bark, and they serve fried meadowlark,
And the stew gets all things they can find pitched in.
The cook is old and gray, may have passed on yesterday.
Which would explain the smells a’comin’ from the kitchen.”
And, Lowe continues with another one that his mom sang that might have helped him out a bit with geography. It went something like this:
“Oh, what did Ioway, Oh, what did Ioway? I ask you very confidentially, what did Ioway?
She weighed her Washington. She weighed her Washington. I tell you very
confidentially, she weighed her Washington.
Oh, what did Delaware? Oh, what did Delaware? I ask you very confidentially, what did Delaware?
She wore her New Jersey. She wore her New Jersey. I tell you very confidentially, she wore her New Jersey.
Oh, what did Idaho? Oh, what did Idaho? I ask you very confidentially, what did Idaho?
She hoed her Maryland. She hoed her Maryland. I tell you very confidentially she hoed her Maryland.
Oh, what did Tennessee? Oh, what did Tennessee? I ask you very confidentially, what did Tennessee?
The same thing Arkansas. The same thing Arkansas. I tell you very confidentially, the same thing Arkansas.
Oh, where has Oregon? Oh, where has Oregon? I ask you very confidentially, where has Oregon?
I don’t know, Alaska. I don’t know, Alaska. I tell you very confidentially, I don’t know, Alaska.”
My thanks to Lowe for almost completely writing my column for me this week. It gave me more time to work outdoors and nap indoors.
I’ll note that the last few weeks of lyrics from goofy songs from a bygone era might just prove that the music enjoyed by the current generation might not be as distasteful as we oldsters believe it to be.
I’ve an old farmer friend who lives at Royal City, Wash., raising mostly alfalfa hay in the Columbia Basin. She wrote: “Today, I placed my Glock 19 pistol on the table right next to my front door. I left its clip beside it, then left it alone and went about my business. While I was gone, the mailman delivered my mail. The neighbor’s son mowed my yard. Another neighborhood girl walked her dog down the road. After about an hour, I checked on the gun. It was quietly sitting there, right where I had left it. It had not moved itself outside. It had not killed anyone. In fact, it had not even loaded itself. Well you can imagine my surprise, with all the hype by the Left and the media, about how dangerous guns are and how they kill people. Either the media is wrong, or I’m in possession of the laziest gun in the world. Well, I’m off to check on my spoons. I hear they’re making people fat!”
Ponder what my friend wrote … and, have a good ‘un. ❖
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