He could hear the coffee perking on the top of the wood burning stove. He could hear the water boiling from its spout, then turning to steam as it flowed down onto the hot, cast iron lids.”
–J.S. Stroud (The Old Rider)
“Wait for the wagon, ohhhh, wait for the wagon, wait for the wagon and we’ll all take a ride!” Yeehaw! Whooee, Pard, it must have been that first cup of coffee this mornin’. Sorry, I didn’t see yuh at the kitchen door or I’d tuned it down some. I’ll pour yuh a cup in just a moment, just have to catch muh breath. Whooeee, that was sure a storm that came through last night; sure thanked the good Lord for a roof over my head.
Reckon that ol’ song goes way back to Stephen Foster. Those 49ers sang it on their way to California. Since then lots of folk have jumped on lots of wagons goin’ nowhere fast. Why just you look at the media, there’s a host clamorin’ to jump on the wagon of socialism–the nitwits. It’s bad enough now what the government takes from yuh. Always wantin’ more, more, and more if’n yuh got anything left.
Pard! My cup’s plumb empty. Refill’s a-comin’. Now, where was I? Back to this hoppin’ on the wagon. From what I’m seein’ across the countryside, most folks are just jumpin’ on not knowin’ much about where that wagon is a-takin’ them. Too many, way too many have leaped upon that wagon headin’ down the road to perdition. Stay away from that wagon Pard, well, I bet ol’ Slewfoot hisself is the teamster.
Me, I’m just a-travelin’ along waitin’ for that great meetin’ in the sky. When that great trumpet sound, I’ll be hoisted up an’ given my place in that celestial wagon headin’ for glory. Yeehaw! But easy, the coffee’s gone, and I don’t want to be throwin’ my hip out of joint rejoicin’. An’ Pard, until that great day we have to be livin’ down here and part of that is makin’ sure we check our cinch before mountin’.