Collected by Parler Marica Sanders, Murphreesboro
Another student January 14, 1960
Reel 356, Item 10 My Grandmother's Rocking Chair
(From Mrs. Martha Brown, Fayetteville.)
My grandmother sat in the old rocking chair,
But she was not my grandmother then,
And her pert little face was bewitchingly fair,
As she rocked a defiance to men.
Her sunbonnet fluttered like a bird on the wing,
Her hair wandered free on the breeze,
And gaily, I ween, did my grandmother sing,
Underneath those old gnarled apple trees.
My grandfather rode through the wide orchard gate,
He tethered his roan to a tree,
He'd a well-powdered wig on his pate
And high-tasselled boots to his knee.
From the pink apple blossoms which o'er him hung,
He brushed off the dew with his hat,
Till he came to the place where the rocking chair swung Where my merry young grandmother sat.
She sang as she rocked in the old easy chair,
Faint heart never won lady fair,
So he wooed and he prayed, and before very long,
There sat two in the old rocking chair.
Click tabs to swap between content that is broken into logical sections.