Dug-Out Home

In a way...I pride myself,
Of having a chance to live.
In a dug-out house,
Experience had it to give.

Dug in the side of a hill,
With a stove-pipe reaching out.
Some times...I was hungry,
As I sauntered forth and went about.

On a stool inside,
I was dry and warm.
With lightning flashing,
I sat through the storm.

I partook of it all,
With dirt overhead.
Under crude ways I grew,
And my body was fed.

The experience of youth,
With nary a shelf.
Gave me the wisdom of a dug-out,
That I now...pride myself.


E.P. 1908 - 1989