BluestoneReview

Zane Grey By Brian Tracey What was it like, what was it like, Reading Zane Grey by a kerosene light? A red watermelon, in a clear spring, A cool summer treat soon to bring. A cast iron stove, burning black coal, A revival meeting to save your soul. What was it like, what was it like, Reading Zane Grey by a kerosene light? Now Roosevelt said, help’s on the way, With the CCC and the WPA. What was it like, what was it like, Reading Zane Grey by a kerosene light? Bull Tail School, grades one through eight, One room, one teacher, sealed your fate. Strum a guitar in a wildflower field, The pain of being poor a short while healed. First job, farm labor, a dollar a day, For a boy from the mountain, not a bad day’s pay. We’ll sell moonshine and homebrew while we wait, Cause, damn, that government train sure seems late. Age seventeen, took his place in the mill, So Zane and the boy went west, to return they never will.

What was it like, what was it like, Reading Zane Grey by a kerosene light?

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