Hoedown poems on Hello Poetry

Roger Turner - Poet May 2012

This Ain't a ******* Country Song

You know I love my Rock and Roll

I wouldn't write a Country Song

'Cause that's not how I roll

This song it ain't bout country things

Like pickup trucks and cars

You'll never find me writing

About getting drunk in bars

There's no mention here of Taylor Swift

or The Charlie Daniels Band

I wouldn't write of how the banks

are taking our farmland

This Ain't a ******* Country Song

You know I love my Rock and Roll

I wouldn't write a Country Song

'Cause that's not how I roll

I don't know **** 'bout Redneck stuff

like hunting dogs and guns

I wouldn't write of Daisy Dukes

showing off some hot babes buns

I won't write 'bout the Opry

I don't know all that stuff

Of Minnie Pearl and Grandpa Jones

And Mr. Roy Acuff

This Ain't a ******* Country Song

You know I love my Rock and Roll

I wouldn't write a Country Song

'Cause that's not how I roll

There's nothing here 'bout Bourbon

or of Racing through the fields

I don't know much about farming

or crop futures or of yields

I listen to The Rolling Stones

Trace Adkins I don't like

Lady A can go away

Kid Rock can ride his bike

You won't hear much about Zac Browns Band

or of food thats Chicken Fried

I might go to a hoedown

If I'd just up and died

My music, it fulfills me

It makes me who I am

But I'll stay away from country

songs, Cause I don't give a ****

No Oak Ridge Boys or Hee Haw Here

Hank Williams I won't buy

I'll never buy a Dixie Beer

It's a drink I'll never try

I won't sing about Kentucky

or of a Texas Yellow Rose

you know this aint no country song

Good god I hope it shows

There's no mohter, dogs or applie pie

no fishin' in the dark

No Everything is Beautiful

No songs by Terry Clark

I'm really open minded

My friends they are the same

We won't buy country music

To us it's just so lame

This Ain't a ******* Country Song

You know I love my Rock and Roll

I wouldn't write a Country Song

'Cause that's not how I roll

I won't mention stuff you'll find

in songs by Nashville bands

There's nothing here about

watching football in the stands

I'll never write a country song

Cause country just ain't fun

Oh crap I just read this thing

And I think I just wrote one

This Ain't a ******* Country Song

You know I love my Rock and Roll

I wouldn't write a Country Song

'Cause that's not how I roll

#mom #music #apple #and #song #country #rock #pie #trucks #roll

WILLIAM WORTHLESS Dec 2019

hoedown

high up in the mountains in the rocky tops
folks they have a hoedown music never stops
they all get together as they gather round
dancing all night long to the hillbilly sound

banjos they start playing and the fiddles too
dancing all night long for the whole night through
linking arm in arm with a spin around
they all sing along to the hillbilly sound.

dance the night away on there *** down night
dancing all together till the early morning light
banjos and the fiddle they all join in too
playing all night long till the early morning dew

high up in the mountains in the rocky tops
folks they have a hoedown music never stops
they all get together as they gather round
dancing all night long to the hillbilly sound

miriam troth Sep 2017

SOUR GRAPES HOEDOWN

'DON'T GRAB MY APPLE DUMPLINGS

OR MY SWEET CHERRY TWIST.

YOU'RE A LEWD, CRUDE DESPICABLE DUDE

AND A FAT MISOGYNIST.'

"HEY, I'M A BIG STAR AND CAVIAR

WITH MELONS ARE DELICIOUS.

IF GIRLS WON'T TRY MY PUMPKIN PIE

THEY'RE LESBIAN AND MALICIOUS."

'YOU'VE GOT A NASTY HABIT

AND IT MUST BE OVERCOME.

THAT'S MY LUNCH BOX DON'T YOU GRAB IT!'

SAID THE DONNA TO THE DON.

"YES, I'M A BIG STAR AND I'VE COME FAR

YOUR RAMBUTAN LOOKS DELICIOUS.

IF YOU WON'T TRY MY PECAN PIE

YOU'RE PREMENSTRUAL AND CAPRICIOUS."

'FORBIDDEN FRUIT'S RESTRICTED

SO EXERCISE RESTRAINT,

OR I'LL GRAB YOUR WALNUT CLUSTERS HARD

AND YOU'LL TURN BLUE AND FAINT.'

(If you're a bit slow then see below

and follow this helpful strategy.

Simply substitute any mention of fruit

with words from 'Reproductive Anatomy').

Miriam Troth 2016

#trump #donald #hoedown #feminist #humour #humor

WILLIAM WORTHLESS Dec 2017

hoedown

going to a *** down at the local fair
folks they come from miles come from everywhere
guitars and banjos play steel guitar and all
playing all night long at the local ball

dressed in cowboy boots and there stetsons too
doing different dances like the cowboys do
dancing in a line dancing side by side
with a gentle twirl followed by a slide

dancing to the music and a dancing song
at the local hoedown they dance all night long
to the country beat that makes your body sway
having lots of fun as they dance the night away

dressed in cowboy boots and there stetsons too
doing different dances like the cowboys do
dancing all night long to the country beat
to a country song that puts dancing in your feet

.

Harold r Hunt Sr Oct 2014

The *** Down Show Down

.
The *** Down Show Down
Old Grandpa tune his fiddle with pride.
Uncle Joe on the old banjo
Dad he was willing to go on the old washtub.
I had my spoons in my hand ready for the old showdown.
In walked the Matfields with a smile on their face.
Thinking this hoedown was their place.
It all began in one face pace song after song and the dance was right on a faster pace.
Orange Blossom special was the Matfeilds last song.
But old grandpa had one more to be done.
As the cheer rang out old Rocky Top began to play.
The place jumped with joy and began to perform with pride.
Because old Rocky Top Tenn is our home town you see.

xmxrgxncy May 2016

Seven Days

Just because I listen
To digital cello music Monday's
Space rock Tuesday's
Country hoedown Wednesday's
Emotive rap Thursday's
Classical pieces Friday's
And metal on Saturdays
Doesn't mean Sunday
Has to be a day
Of rest

Just to show the multitude of music I listen to....on a daily basis, not even spread through a week like that.

#music #rest #multitude

janet chavarria Aug 2015

ode to the folk of song

for many years they've come to schwenksville
crowding the streets to camp on the hill.
life is brought to the Old Pool farmfields;
pitch the tents and shrug off the suit shields.

they've come to sing these grasslands alive
guarding traditions that will survive
with guitars, violins, flutes and song.
while the beat dances to the crowd strong.

for many years city people leave
their orderly days to hear minstrels weave
tales of love and loss set to music
with strummings old, new, and exotic.

over the bridge that arcs a small creek
to the concert area and seek
a good spot for a blanket hoedown;
they come from uptown, downtown, hometown.

dress is casual, sunblock crucial;
campsites range from fancy to frugal.
hand claps, toe taps, knee slaps to the beat;
musicians drum, hum, strum in the heat.

for many years the keepers of song
have come to schwenksville to play along.
with stories in their mouths and a spark
in their hearts, that burns into the dark.

in the years ahead this tradition
will survive, that will be their mission.
simple melodies and rhythms play,
the spirit of folksong will not stray.

preservationman Oct 2021

LOWDOWN ON MY HOEDOWN

Drink Up
I am a true Texan
Came from a small Texas Town
Travelling on a Stage Coach kicking up dust
I came to a town called “REFRESHING GULCH”
That town has the right name
But I am just being lame
Those folks drink Sun Up to Sundown
Now I don’t drink along those lines
But then again, have I truly lost my mind
However, all I can remember I was knocked out drunk
It happened in the Pleasure Saloon
I had arrived on that Stage Coach at noon
What a way to begin a journey
By the way, my name is Ernie
Somehow, I was so drunk, I was put into a hotel room in town
It was called “SETTLE YOURSELF”
I woke up and found myself in nothing but my underwear
Talk about an embarrassing moment
Barely holding steady
I have a hangover the size of Wyoming
There was a knock at the door, and it was the Sheriff Hummer, checking up on me
I asked the Sheriff, “How did I get into this room?”
He said he carried me
All I can remember is seeing the Can Can Girls as they showed dance in can
I just kept drinking as I could into when with no end
That’s where everything turned black
I don’t remember anything else other than that
However, I do remember a lady name JOSIE
Beautiful Gal
But she disappeared
Now I want a smoke
But all I am thinking of right now is GUNSMOKE
I am waiting for Marshall Dillion to step in
But all I want to do is for my drinking to come to an end
Now I can’t walk through Refreshing Gulch dressed like this
I am here in my underwear
It’s all my thought of beware
I am not going to let the truth be told
But I have already told the story so no need for me to put on hold
This is no time to be bold
So much for drinking
What was I thinking?
The Moon was high and all I was thinking I
This is what I get
Now it is all regret
Perhaps I should gamble and bet in the downstairs Saloon
The sun can be very high at moon
Just my luck, I could be in the last round up
It would become my mock
So much for Texas
As Texan’s say, “I Fixin to Leave”
What time is the next Stage Coach
So long folks
Please no jokes

matthew scott harris May 2020

Howami? hmm... good question,

but for some unknown reason
more tired than usual...,
without daily twenty four hours
proper rest, I feel haggard.

I strongly suspect (a hunch acquired
upon returning home
after visiting Notre Dame)
deep sleep interruptions...
attributed to uncontrollable need:
tap a kidney, micturate, spend a penny
(thee last mentioned British, informal)...
quite displeasing... yea urinate kidding.

Methinks perhaps to purchase adult diapers
(or fashion/repurpose water absorbent material)
in an effort to stave off awakening groggily
after experiencing an awesome dream, cuz
REM (rapid eye movement cycle) interference

courtesy natural function versus external
noise, which when slumbering both equally
affect bringing about onset of fatigue,
yet herewith yours truly intent to hone in
on former.

Meanwhile, he hoops to entertain thee dear
anonymous reader with the following poem
posthumously dashed off while falsely
believing himself to transition into afterlife

So sit back and kick up dem heels
without falling on yar crown
and/or bare stocking feet
and/or if ye prefer by all means lie down
attempting moost impossible mission

to flip (i.e. reverse) any lurking frown
other than standing on head whereby gown
and/or other stitch of clothing (casual wear)
preparatory to embarking on scheduled hoedown,
perchance participating among other groupies

(a gratefully deadset of fervent beastie boys
and goo goo dolls) join fracas intown
where martial law heightened surveillance
police able, ready and willing with Billy clubs
to crack then scramble noggins, and knockdown

civilly disobedient citizens in dire straits
politely courtesy coronavirus
(COVID-19) lockdown,
which heavily truncated livingsocial options
inextricably linkedin with societal meltdown

psychological fallout endemic among Caucasian
or hue men/women talking heads of natural nutbrown
persuasion, which madding crowd (think Woodstock)
where little upstate New York town
of Bethel hmm became quickly overgrown

with peaceable folks across gamut
regarding age, nationality, race, religion...,
rendered superfluous strong arm of law to putdown
and/or quell any anarchistic uprising
(perhaps even top brass
military industrial complex)

incognito as... beetle browed brothers
of some contraband slated to perform
and eventually gain world wide webbed renown
donating their unexpected proceeds
to upgrade and gentrify

one after another shantytown
even boosting fame and (mis)fortune
of Matthew Scott Harris
at long last, he could relocate
out his tumbledown abode to parts unknown.

Sander Mar 2020

The Vaudevillian Flapper

A piano glissando started the jazz

There she was, the flapper,
She flew on her crooked dancing heels,
Tweeted a light hedonistic tune,
Her airy short fringed gown
Exposed her rouged knees and her naked thighs

A feather boa crawled on her pallid collar bones,
Her heels tapped on the snake’s every slither

The taste of whiskey masked the flavour of her
promiscuity,
A scandal
The scent of morphine wafted around her,
A mirror to her unsettled hoedown

The flapper’s onyx bob,
Embellished with vibrant ostrich plumes
Her hair’s band,
Glittered with sequins and diamantes

Cigarette incense framed her,
clouded the marquee background
Soft lilac light embraced the musical band
But the spotlight was hers

Jazz and drink,
The ingredients for her burlesque conduct

The laughs of audience members
Chorused with her haughty charleston

The trombone climaxed
The cymbals crashed

Her dance was dying
Along with the grins of men clad in black

and on her last step,
The night dissolved

William J Donovan Dec 2022

Bring Your Heart

It's a hoedown in the barn
Saturday night fiddles
harmonicas love riddles
we meet lovers on a farm
Love is tender no harm
necklace worn like a charm.

— The End —