THE MULE JUST PLODDED ALONG
 
Daddy got us up early at the break of dawn,
To ride down County to the Boyd Farm.
He hitched his old mule between the shafts,
While we wolfed breakfast down real fast.
He and Mama climbed up on the high seat,
With two little kids bundled at their feet.
We four girls scrambled up behind,
With "Giddaup" Daddy picked up the driving line,
And his old mule started plodding along.

With feet hanging down from the rear,
We started out with much joy and cheer,
Dragging sticks in the dusty dirt,
making squiggles in the rut.
It was such a nice warm spring day,
We were all so happy and gay.
We often burst into sporadic song, 
And that old mule just plodded along.

Picking flowers along the road side,
Running to jump back in for a ride.
The flowers looked pretty in the morning sun,
Too late Mama yelled "No not that one,"
Stinging, the cactus to my hand clung.
Mama picked the burs out one by one.
I was soon back running and having fun,
As that old mule just kept plodding along.
At noon we stopped by a little stream,
 Mama's fried chicken, biscuits tasted supreme.
 While Mama and Daddy took a little snooze,
 We kids pulled off our socks and shoes,
 In the stream we went to splash and play.
 Oh, what a wonderful, wonderful day!
 Catching tadpoles with our hands,
 Building castles in the wet sand,
 While that old mule crunched on corn.
 

 All too soon it was time to head home,
 Exhausted, we were still glad we had come.
 We had laughed and played, running free,
 In the shade of that old spreading oak tree.
 The ride home was longer and harder than before,
 We were tired, wet , dirty, cranky and slow,
 Could not even muster up a song,
 But that old mule just kept plodding along!
 

 BY Juliette Lively Dickey
 February 15, 2000