I grew up in an old farm-house
Just a spit-toss from the creek
Joyous boyhood in the cowshit
To my Parents' deep chagrin, though,
I was never mild or meek.

I was boyhood raw abandon
I was loud as loud could be
I could dance to secret music
I would pester all the grown-ups
Questions! Questions, constantly.

"Why For" was my given nick-name
I was such a hungry youth
Why for this and why for that
I would drive my Folk's friends crazy
Seeking bits and bites of Truth

Years have flown by much too quickly
Knees are creaky, hair's gone gray
Still I ask a simple question
Same one when I played in cowshit
"Why for why for, anyway?"