LITTLE HEATHENS
We were always playing outside games and rolling in clover
Running on rocks, baseball and red rover
Dirt stained necks, scrapped knees, and someone with a black eye
Winners, losers, and teasing leading someone to cry
Tempers always flared and the inevitable fight
Boiled crawfish or fried shrimp and hugs by night
Summers in Rynella were my favorite of the seasons
When families gathered and we got to be little heathens