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The Pirates Of Stone County Road
by
John Stewart
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It's a summer afternoon, somewhere in Kansas or Illinois or Oklahoma. The wind is blowing the leaves down the gutter as the mailman comes by. "Afternoon Mrs. Higgins, hot enough for ya?" Over on Stone County Road there's the smell of chicken frying. "Henry! It's getting t'wards suppertime you know. Henry!" There she calls from her second floor room The end of a back porch afternoon Where we'd stand on the bow of our own man-of-war No longer the back porch any more And we'd sail pulling for China The pirates of Stone County Road All weathered and blown And we'd sail ever in glory 'Till hungry and tired The pirates of Stone County Road Were turning for home "Henry! You better be getting on up to bed now, don't ya know, Henry!" There she calls from her high wicker chair As I climb to my room up the stair Where the wind through the shutters Sends the mainsail to fall From the shadow of the bedpost on the wall And we'd sail pulling for China The pirates of Stone County Road Weathered and blown And we'd sail ever in glory 'Till hungry and tired The pirates of Stone County Road Were turning for home "Henry! Can you hear me, Henry. Are you up there Henry? Henry!"
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