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Jerry's Poems



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One year ago one of my daughter’s friends, Emily, was killed in a traffic accident. She was a beautiful and delightful child and a fine young lady. She had just graduated from Sam Houston State College. It was a tragic loss.



In Memory of Emily


Just for an instant, the world stood still,

A moment in time, to do God’s will.

He sent us an angel, from heaven to earth,

A beautiful child, on the day of her birth.


Wherever she went, whoever she knew,

Were blessed by His angel, just passing through.

Our wonderful memories, will never part,

Our treasures of Emily, we’ll keep in our heart.


She’s with You now Lord, at peace in Your arms,

Please rock her gently, protect her from harm.

Welcome her joyfully, into her new home,

Smile as her heart, is full of Your song.


Dear Lord hold her hand, while the angels sing,

Wrap her in love, while she spreads her new wings.

Tell her we love her, at the end of each day,

Kiss her face sweetly, these things we do pray.


Just for an instant, the world stood still,

a moment in time, to do God’s will.

He called home his angel, to heaven from earth,

She’s with Jesus now, on her day of rebirth.










 I was at work last night thinking about the baby blanket Mother made for me many years ago. Many of our clothes and all of our quilts were homemade. Women in those days had a huge domestic responsibility, sewing was just one of them. Mother always had her sewing machine set up and was constantly at work on a shirt, blouse or other garment.


   Her quilting frame many times was hung from the ceiling and her or sometimes a whole group of ladies were busy sewing and stitching quilts. By the time the quilt got this far along it was in the final stages. A quilt was the culmination of many hours work like collecting pieces of fabric suitable and large enough to be made into quilting squares and sewing them together. These were attained mostly from bits left over from larger projects like I mentioned, shirts, dresses and blouses. Much of the backing for these quilts came from flour sacks that were by design in those days, colorful and intended just for this use. Most of the time I could look at one of the many quilts Mother and my sisters made and see a piece of some long forgotten shirt Mother had made for me. I know this is true for my sisters and brothers and most folks that grew up in the country. In this way a quilt of this sort is like a historical document.


   My baby blanket has special memories for me. After I got to the age I no longer needed a baby blanket it became the centerpiece for a regular full sized quilt. It was used for many years and became worn and threadbare. Mother in her wisdom and loving fashion cut away the outer piece that was coming apart and saved the baby blanket part for me. I fortunately work with a lady, Naomi Diaz that does quilting. She put a new edge around the blanket for me and made it better than new because it has so much sentimental value.


   As I was pondering over my blanket and all the quilts Mother made and the special memories and history they hold, this poem came to be.




Patchwork of Life


Pieces of cloth lay all around,

each with a story, lost then found.

Quilting squares, both worn and torn,
like precious treasures, memories reborn.


Patches of cloth from here and there,

a shirt, a blouse, a bonnet to wear.

Each square had a tale, a piece of us all,

a brand new outfit, that we could recall.


Crafted with love from Mother’s hands,

Such beauty from scraps and little strands.

A flour sack of green and blue,

pretty pieces made anew.


Our lives with love and Mother’s care,

were sewn as one, just like each square.

The fabric of family held us together,

safe and warm no matter the weather.


The patchwork of life winds all around,
just like those squares, lost then found.
Our lives and paths at times will cross,
connections made then oft’ times lost.

Innocence, wonder, and youth pass on,
replaced by wisdom’s elegant song.
Let’s remember these patches, left in the end,
and like Mother’s warm quilt, my love I send.



Jerry Jones

December 31st 2006


 I always liked the term ‘gallant sailor’ John Edward Dove used in his poem “Ask If She’s Still True and Kind”. I used it in a different way. I see the parallel of a person drifting at sea to a lost soul searching for something that seems intangible and I tried to show that relationship.

The Stormy Sea of Life


It cries out in the stormy night,

that voice inside my brain,

Wailing out a plaintive cry,

through the pounding of the rain.


How long have I drifted,

searching for the Light?

Where resides my soul,

in this swirling sea called life?


Always in the distance,

one step ahead of me,

resides the faint horizon,

is that eternity?


My sullen eyes cast downward,

searching in the deep,

For a sign of liberation,

to wake me from this sleep.


Suddenly from the dark of night,

His angels lead the way,

and point the path to simple truth,

I feel the need to pray.


I look up toward the heavens,

beseeching God above,

To ask for His forgiveness,

to wrap me in His Love.


Blinded by a flash,

from heaven’s thunderous Hand

The Gallant Sailor takes me up,

and leads me to the land.


Lifted as I reached the shore,

He cloaks me in His grace,

And soothes me with forgiveness

from the warmth of His embrace.


Lost, bewildered, at the helm,

not knowing where to steer.

I only had to look within,

my ‘God’, was always near.





  Essay and poem on Andrew Woods and family  

Jerry Jones - Dec 24, 2005  


      Life in the Early 1700's Around the Time of the Immigration of Andrew Woods and Family from Ireland to Philadelphia
                                                by Jerry Jones

  Simply put, early 18th century was a brutal world. This was the world our ancestor Andrew Woods, his wife and children lived in. What would inspire a man like Andrew Woods to pack up his family, all his worldly belongings and travel around the world to an unknown land? Why did him and eight of his children perish during the voyage? What happened? Not much more is known other than what is written below, however some things can be postulated.
  If you haven’t done so please read the next two paragraphs, excerpts taken from John Woods’ document located in the file cabinet on our family page under “Joseph Woods of South Carolina written by Clinton McMillin Woods Foxworth. Andrew Woods in relation to me would be my 10th Generation (Great(7)-Grandfather).    

"About the beginning of the 18th century the emigration to the American colonies began.   My great, great grandfather emigrated from Scotland to the north of Ireland.   He married Isabel Frame, whose father had emigrated from Scotland.   She was born and died in Tryonne County, Ireland.   Their son was Andrew Woods (my great-grandfather).   His eldest son, Samuel Woods, came over to Pennsylvania and wrote back such glowing accounts of this land and urged so strongly for his father to come, that Andrew Woods, with his wife and nine children, sailed from Ireland about 1727 or 1728.   They had a stormy passage and a very brutal captain. I suppose he knew little of navigation and became more and more furious as he got farther and farther out of his course. That he got widely out of the way is proven by the fact that they were driven upon the Island of Antigua, north of South America.   From bad weather and insufficient and bad provisions and a crowded vessel, the ship fever broke out and many of the passengers died.   Andrew Woods and three of his children died and were buried on the Island of Antigua.   They stayed there several weeks and at last sailed for Philadelphia".

  "Water became scarce and the captain finally declared it was almost all gone, and put them on so short an allowance that many died of thirst.   One of Great grandfather's daughters, Rebecca, a young woman, died in sight of land, calling for water.   She was buried in the ocean.   Finally, after being forty-two weeks on the voyage the poor mother landed at Philadelphia with one child, my grandfather, Joseph Woods.   He was then about four years old.   All the others, her husband and children had died during the voyage.   After landing at Philadelphia it was discovered that there were several hogsheads of water which the captain, in his brutality, had denied to his passengers".   

  Life in the early 1700’s was nothing like we can imagine. Here are a few things to think about when we consider our ancestors, Andrew Woods, his wife and nine children that left Ireland and traveled to Philadelphia in the year 1728.
  Medicine was archaic at best. There was no concept of germs and where disease came from was a mystery. A physician of the day was formally trained, however, a surgeon required no medical certification or education. Surgeons learned their trade as they went along, usually by apprenticeship. Surgeons were a last resort. Amputations were common and could be performed in less than three minutes. A physician performed blood letting as a cure for most diseases. Most of the time the cure caused more deaths than the disease.
  Oral hygiene was almost non-existent. Many had few teeth or were toothless. Deformities and open sores were common. Most had smallpox at one time and had   pock-marked faces. Even the rich didn’t take baths, lice that carried typhus infested all. Children in the winter were stitched into their clothes. People in the country were better off than those in the cities because most diseases were contagious and country folks weren’t exposed as much as city dwellers. The cities had a ditch down the middle of the horse manure laden road that carried sewage, offal and whatever else the people threw into it.
  Many fled because of religious persecution and taxes that were so high the poor lost the only possessions and property they had. Our ancestors left by ship (name unknown) from Londonderry, a port city in Ireland.
    Now a few words about the ships that carried passengers from Europe to America. In the early 1700’s there were no passenger ships. There were cargo ships and military ships. I agree with John Woods that our ancestors made their fateful trip on a cargo ship. Some of the cargo ships were converted to passenger ships by putting another deck underneath the main deck. One had to stoop over at the waist to navigate around this cramped berthing area. Most ships were extremely over-crowded. In the berthing area there was very little light or air. During storms water would pour through the cracks and soak the passengers and all their possessions. Meals were salted meat and hardtack (a hard, dry biscuit). There were dried peas and beans, cheese and butter. Food could be cooked over charcoal fires in metal boxes called braziers but this was very hazardous on a wooden ship. It was mostly eaten cold. Eventually the food became infested with bugs, the biscuits grew harder, the cheese got moldy and the butter turned bad. The water after after standing in barrels for so long became stagnant and unsafe to drink.

  Illness, other than seasickness, was a major problem, typhus, also called ship’s fever,   spread by lice, killed many passengers. Death was a common occurance. People that died at sea were thrown overboard. There were no bathrooms, you can use your imagination the problems this caused. Seawater was the only means of cleaning one’s self. Most wore the same clothes for the duration of the voyage.

    The gulf stream was known by some captains but not fully understood. The first published chart was in 1678 and was published for scientists not mariners. The gulf stream comes up the eastern seaboard of the U.S. towards Nova Scotia and across the Atlantic to England. From there the current moves south toward the Canary Islands and Africa before turning west toward the Leeward Islands and Antigua. Savvy captains knew of this stream and used it for navigation. Maybe this is why our ancestors ended up in Antigua. Why it took so long I don’t know, maybe like John Woods postulated, this was a cargo ship and stopped at various ports along the way to trade goods. If this is true I asked myself, why there were still so many deaths?

  I discovered in my research that many ships had ruthless captains that intentionally gave their passengers bad food and water to make them ill. There were many deaths on Atlantic crossings due to typhus, dysentery and other maladies. Throw into the mix a murderous captain and the ingredients are there for mass murder. It could have been that the captain was in no hurry to get to Philadelphia. Why should he be? Until the year 1820 the captains of ships weren’t required to have passenger lists, therefore, the captain didn’t have to account for the passengers on his vessel. Most ports along the route to Antigua weren’t ports like we think about today. The ships didn’t pull up to docks and load and unload cargo. The passengers weren’t free to disembark and get fresh food and water. No, these ships anchored far from land and used smaller boats to get to shore. The captain and crew had the passengers where they wanted them, quarantined on board the ship, often sick, malnourished and without fresh water. Mutinies occurred but were rare given the condition of the passengers. The captain and crew were able to come and go as they pleased waiting for death to take its toll. At times these murderous captains would sail in circles sometimes waiting for death to take as many passengers as possible. Then the captain and crew could confiscate all their belongings. Given the length of the voyage Andrew Woods and family were on, this could have been the case. Only about half the passengers survived the crossing. Of course this is only speculation, there is no proof, but captains like this did exist and events like this did occur during this time period.

  We’ll never know what really happened. In my mind I can’t imagine the heartbreak, horror and suffering these poor folks endured. That family circle has been unbroken for a long time now. I wonder how they felt to be reunited.

  This is a poem I wrote from Andrew Woods’ wife’s point of view about this passage, it’s not pleasant, however, it portrays how I think she may have felt about this deadly voyage.

Voyage of Doom

We started out with dreams and hope,
on the docks of Londonderry.
As we boarded on our sailing ship,
cold and wet and weary.

Two long months, maybe three,
it seemed more like a year,
Since we left the dreary, dismal, docks,
our hearts were filled with fear.

A glimpse of land, a ray of hope,
we prayed each day to see,
But our hopes were crushed and bodies bruised,
by the violent, seething, sea,

Sometimes storms raged for days
as cold as a dead man’s hand,
And carried swift the chill of death,
never warmed by a kiss from land.

Vile and fetid in the ship’s deep bowels,
with disease and death replete.
Lived the stench of rot, mold and sweat,
Our companions were all three.

The berths with planks to use as beds,
were filled with cries of death.
Black as night in this sea bound tomb,
and as foul as the Devil’s breath.

The other’s eyes like mirrors,
with stares so grim and sad.
Reflected mine right back at me,
slowly going mad.

A tiny sniffle, a plaintive cry,
from my child so weak and frail.
Turned into a burning fever,
as the typhus raged full-scale.

Her little hands as if in prayer,
were pointed heavenly
She perished from the plague that day,
and was swallowed by the sea.

Wave by wave and day by day,
despair and deep heartache.
Now four months on this hellish ride,
a child each month did take.

It seemed the captain lost his way,
in circles on we pressed.
He cycled round the compass points,
killing time to wait for death.
The hopelessness took its awful toll,
until one sunny day,
When at last we saw a spot of land,
and hope sprung from dismay.

We cheered, we wept, and kissed the land,
though far from course we roamed.
We still had many miles to go,
to get to our new home.

Like cattle, us, the crew and all,
were put in quarantine.
The sickness, rampant, took its toll,
more deaths were now foreseen.

Here upon this heartless isle,
the people called Antigua.
I lost my husband to the fever,
then three more of my children.

Broken heart, and spirit low,
I struggled to go on.
With two young children by my side,
we boarded at the dawn.

I hope he meets a brutal death,
the Captain of our ship.
He kept the water for himself,
and my Rebecca forever slept.

On the wharf in Philadelphia,
Facing toward the east,
I pray for all my children,
Put there by that beast.

May their souls rest now in comfort,
With our Savior up above.
May they live with Him forever,
In the bosom of His Love.

Jerry Jones

The warmest feeling dwelled in my heart today as I wrote this poem....Jerry

His Path 

As we travel down the path of life,

 and find our way along.

The Lord is right there by our side,

we never go alone.


Sometimes we let Him walk with us,

At times He’s left behind.

Sometimes His Word is like a map,

we never travel blind.


Sometimes His path leads far from home,

or right back to the hearth.

Sometimes His path is winding,

and we end up where we start.


Sometimes His path is beaten,

traveled and well worn.

Sometimes His path is fraught with pain,

just like His crown of thorns.


Sometimes when we think we’re lost,

and His path is overgrown.

Just look where Jesus dragged His cross,

and cleared a path for all.






I was thinking about Hurricane Rita and the turmoil it caused my family, not from damage but from the horrible experience of the evacuation fiasco. I told Patsy that I would probably write a poem about it someday. I’ve thought about it, but the experience was so negative I haven’t really wanted to dwell on it very much. Sure, I learned a lot from that experience but the inspiration department was pretty dry. That is until today. I don’t know why the thought came to me but it was interesting after we got home to see just what all each of us took,  Cheryl, Clayton and myself. We were all very busy the day we left and took it upon ourselves to pack what individual keepsakes we wanted, makes sense, because what means a great deal to one person might mean little to the next. Had the forecasts been correct, all we left behind would have been destroyed, washed away or blown away, whatever came first. In terms of monetary value the things we took were not worth much, but the sentimental value was priceless.  

Pieces of Time


Sifting through the trinkets,

 from loved ones we have stored,

Each one has a story,

 or a moment we adored.


So many thoughts come to mind,

as we touch and reminesce,

Mementos of the love we hold,

from the ones we often miss.


Each keepsake holds the life they lived,

the ones that we loved most.

Each one has its own tale,

that lovingly pulls us close.


All the other worldly goods,

Can always be replaced.

But the poignant path these trinkets took,

Can never be retraced.







Mother’s Hands


It wasn’t her face that made me so warm,

Though she made me feel safe and far from harm.


No it wasn’t her eyes or her hair,

Or her loving looks that showed she cared.


It wasn’t her smile that lit the way,

Yes it could make night, turn into day.


It wasn’t her laughter, that made me glow,

She made me feel happy even when I was low.


No it wasn’t her heart, so loving and true,

“I love you Mother”, “I love you too”.


Yes cupped like a flower, her motherly hands,

Overflowed with love, though working and tanned.


They could help you get dressed, or wipe a tear,

Pull you in close, erase your fears.


They could change a diaper or sew a dress,

Cook a fine dinner or clean up a mess.


They could scratch your back or caress your face,

Peel a sweet apple or tie your shoelace.


Yes a million things her hands could do,

Yet this gift of her hands was so blessed and true.


She bowed her head, in her beautiful way,

Then put them together, and taught me to pray.


I Love You,




We knew we’d stand the test of time,
All those years ago.
As we looked into each other’s eyes,
We knew our love would grow.

You’re beauty now as it did then,
Lit your face aglow.
Through marriage, births and joy and pain,
And all life’s ebb and flow.

Then the sickness took its toll,
I saw you waste away.
Bit by bit and inch by inch,
We came to your last days.

The hours flew on, you couldn’t see,
When I was by your side.
I felt your pain as days passed by,
And all the fears inside.

Now teardrops fall like wet, warm, rain,
As I watch your life slip away.
“Goodbye my love, you’re in my heart”,
The last words I heard you say.

Now past the end of earthly days,
Always I’ll remember dear.
Your gentle, kind and loving ways,
All the joys and tears.

Time passed on, it marched along,

It’s time to join you dear.

My heart is tired and lonely now,

Come let me hold you near.


Like a vision, wrapped in love,
Our spirits now entwine.
I thought you were gone forever,
Now forever you’ll be mine.

Above the winding roads,
We soar above the land.
Where we left a million barefoot prints,
Erased by blowing sand.

Gazing at the clear, blue ponds,
Where lazy hours were spent.
We soar upon the fragrant wind,
Laced with flowered scent.

I am here to hold you dear,
We two are now as one.
And with the Lord in heaven now,
Our song has just begun.

Jerry Jones,
Oct 20th, 2005



Seasons of Passion

Love afresh, under a canopy of color,
Was nourished by an April shower,
And consummated by a bold first kiss.

Wet and hot, the valley pulsed,
With passionate desire, on a bed of crimson clover.
Distant thunder, masked the moans of ecstasy.

Harvests wither, golden grains dry,
While dying tendrils seek refuge.
Love so replete, has chilled the slanting rays.

North winds spin snowflakes,
Like tiny buzz saws, cutting heart strings.
Melting, slowly into the abyss.

A frozen crystal is warmed to life.
Rains arouse the buried heirs of fall.
The cycle of life starts anew.

 Jerry Jones
<))))>< Bigfish




Evolution of Love

It had no beginning, it had no end,
Just a point in the cosmos, all matter was in.
Like an artist’s brush He raised his Hand,
With a starburst of plasma it all began.

At the speed of light, from its central core,
An embryonic universe, was born with a roar.
Photons, electrons, neutrinos and quarks,
Cooled and reacted, like ethereal sparks.

With His Love, He unleashed primordial souls,
A colossal swarm, with trails of gold.
A celestial oven, the throng did traverse,
Nursing on Love, in God’s universe.

A newborn soul on a photon trail,
With infant wings, began to sail,
Over eons and eons, light years long,
He was picking up atoms, making him strong.

In a comet tail he chanced to meet,
A form like himself, yet very unique.
Her intonation, was formed like a song,
A certain inflection, a tone of her own..

On the beam of a moon, or streak of a quark
They roamed together, the cosmos their park.
They danced for eons, ‘cross the Milky Way,
Imbibing on atoms, from star chardonnay.

The infant earth baked, for millions of years,
It bubbled and boiled, a gaseous sphere.
The land was hot, it heaved and flowed,
And was finally cooled, with comet kissed snow.

Comets were plenty, and water-logged too,
Seas were formed, into oceans they grew.
Frothed and mixed and mineral gorged,
The mixture of life was finally forged.

Amino acids, d-n-a goo, salts and vitamins, enzymes too.
Plants and animals, bacteria too, were born and bred from primeval stew.
With the touch of His palette, and stroke of His brush,
The colors of Nature burst forth in a rush.

God in his Glory with the gift He bore,
Looked over His canvas and painted some more.
The time was coming, it would be so grand,
To join the souls, with the mortal man.

In primitive time, man was impure,
He lived in caves, and dressed in fur.
He hunted mammoths with flint-tipped spears,
He lived, and yet, no souls were there.

He patiently waited in brutish bliss,
For the gift of life, the Master’s kiss.
So life by life he evolved and grew,
Into biblical man, his form anew.

While our two souls that roamed the heavens,
Joined in spirit, with eternal affection.
Stars were formed, then suffered death,
From their collapse, we caught our breath.

Thus, step by step, and breath by breath,
Our spirits grew and passed His test.
We patiently waited to merge on earth,
Our spiritual souls with physical birth.

Soon the paths began to swirl,
The spiritual beings, the physical world.
In His own time, in His own way,
The two would meet on a beautiful day.

God forged His Fire in the genesis of man,
When soul joined body, where the Tigress ran.
A bountiful place, where He gave us life,
A place where Eve, was Adam’s wife.

That was thousands of years ago,
In a place where His Love would flower and grow.
where want was nothing at all,
Ironically, where man, met his fall.

Adam and Eve, their spirit and seed,
Spawned generations, many souls have they freed.
From traveling afar to heaven and earth,
From searching, beseeching, to each have their birth..

Since then generations have come and gone,
Yet you my sweet, still have your song.
The one you played on that comet tail,
That certain inflection, that filled up my sail.

You gave your love, and the moon still shows,
A beautiful face with a radiant glow.
While here at home, I see the light
And still the moon smiles tonight.

Your eyes of green still have that spark,
Like a
crystal that glows in the dark.
Our lover’s tether, is held in sync,
It pulls us together when we reach the brink.

Yet here this eve at our favorite place,
I still see stardust on your face.
Those days are gone, but still in sight,
So let’s have a toast to our love tonight.

Here’s to you my maiden fair,
Beautiful one, with golden hair,
Remember the eons, remember our trails,
When we first tasted love, on the comet’s tail.

 Jerry Jones





A Soldier’s Loom of Prayers

Lord, As I lay here almost asleep,
One final prayer I softly speak,
Please watch my boy, keep him from harm,
And return him safely to our farm.
He thinks he’s a soldier, but not to me,
Mama’s little boy, he’ll always be.

Mama, remember when you held me tight,
And kissed away bad dreams at night.
I wish you were here, to ease my fear,
And whisper “I love you” in my ear.
Yes, I’m a soldier this very day,
But your little boy, I’ll always stay.

Son, I’m proud, you’re quite a man,
And I pray for you in that hostile land.
I smile at all the fish and game,
That we enjoyed before this came.
I thank the Lord for the times we’ve had,
And am eternally honored to be your Dad.

Dad, You mean the world to me,
You were always there in times of need.
You took me fishin', and to baseball games,
And told me stories round the campfire flames.
I thank Him daily for the things we’ve done,
And boast to all that I’m your son!

Lord, tears are fallin’ like pouring rain,
Please watch over my husband, ease my pain.
Let him once again take me in his arms,
And make me blush with his southern charm.
Yes he’s a soldier, but he’s still my man,
Please shield him daily, with Your lovin’ hands.

Darlin’, I love you with all my heart,
And pray your pain will swiftly part.
I dream of all the joy we’ve had,
It makes me happy, when my heart is sad.
Yes, I’m a soldier and you’re my wife,
And I’ll return soon, to our happy life.

Daddy, why did you go away?
Remember all the games we play?
Would you hurry home, and bring me a toy?
I love you so, your bundle of joy.
P.S. Last night I said a special prayer,
For Jesus to watch you over there.

Sweetie, I miss you and love you so,
I’m hurrying fast, but the going's slow.
Take care of your Mom and be a good girl,
My love to you, from around the world.
P.S. Thank you for that special prayer,
Jesus is watching me, over here.

Special you are and always will be,
A tender soul in My family.
A soldier, father, husband and son,
I sent you to earth to see what you would become.
I know you are loved, I can tell by the prayers,
They make a sweet glow in this heavenly air.

Lord it’s hard being a soldier,
Each day I grow another year older.
But I know that if the bugle calls,
and You take me home from my final fall.
You’ll be there to comfort me,
And take blessed care of my family.

Jerry Jones







The Christmas Gift


As my final breath leaves my lips,

my soul reborn takes a trip.

Peace and comfort ride along,

my spirit sings a joyous song.


More radiant than a beautiful dream,
 I soar to Jesus on a golden beam.
He wraps me in His loving arms,
and all the earthly pains are gone.

Like a child in His lap and He holds me now,
He softly puts His lips to my brow.
His breath of Life is soft on my face,
He comforts me in His loving grace.

I slowly sway in the bough of His arms,
as my humble heart He gently warms.
He rocks me tenderly like a father would,
He loves me so, He’s all things good.

Forgiveness through His crimson stains,

in Jesus Christ, salvation reigns.

He forgives my sins from earthly miles,
and heals my soul with radiant smiles.

God’s only Son, born of man

died for me, Salvation’s plan.

Just ask and God will heed your call,

with the greatest Christmas gift of all.



Christmas 2006



A Very Special Mother


Our home was a warm and loving place,
Because of Mother and her loving grace.
She had other things to do, four kids back then,
But she always had time, to be my best friend.


The school bus came, the others were gone,
Daddy’s at work, Mom and I are alone.
Cowboys and Indians, rockets and cars,
She played with me then, from the earth to the stars.


A quilting frame hanging from the living room ceiling,
Was really a tent, she gave me that feeling.

We’d camp and fish and kill big game,

And she’d cook our fish on a make believe flame.

Or she packed us lunch and to the river we’d roam,
As we ate in the woods, right there at home.

A pop corn ball with red poly pop,

I ate with glee, it was hard to stop.


At the farm she told me a wonderful secret,

About a special rock with finger paint in it.

I searched and looked and once in a while,

I’d take one to her, my whole face a smile.


When I was tired and needed a nap,

In my quilt she made, I warmly wrapped.

She’d read and take me to places afar,

I saw Little Black Sambo and shiny race cars.


When I lost my dog, or other things bad,
She made me smile and forget I was sad.

Or when I made A’s or other things nice,

She’s kiss me and hug me at least once or twice.


Or if I was sick and lying in bed,

She gave me aspirin and a cool cloth on my head.

Or if I cut my finger or fell on my wrist,

There was no better cure than Mother’s kiss.


Everywhere at once, she was never too far,

She was there in our home and close to my heart.

Lucky were we, sisters, brothers, and me,

To have a guardian angel in our family!












Mama’s Calling


 Daddy’s gone, Mama prays,

Still eight  kids to raise.


Along dirt road, from east to west,

Her path is chosen, she’ll do her best.


Wood walls, a tin roof, well worn feather beds,

A simple place to lay their heads.


Crops to plant, a field to plow,

She’s proud to have her sons’ know how.


A chicken yard, with hens and chicks,

A garden, tomatoes, tied up on sticks.


Clean cool water, a bubbling spring,

From deep in it’s heart, life it brings.


Love is here, it’s all about,

Like a two inch rain, in a drought.



Jerry Jones




Country Lovin`

Living in the country near a sparkling spring fed pond,
Was a beauty like no other, with hair of golden blond.
Her lips were sweet as cherry pie, with eyes of summer blue,
Her face was like an angel, full of life, fresh and new.

We fell in love the day we met, in the Texas countryside,
We learned what nature had to give, and how it felt inside.
Like rosebuds set to flower, made by God‘s design,
The wind sang us a love song, as it whispered through the vines.

We climbed up trees as children, to see what we could see,
Played tag your it and May I, `neath the spreading maple trees.
Our childhood seemed to pass on, like a river‘s steady flow,
As our lives stretched out before us like a long, red Texas road.

Our lives were laced together, the years took wing and flew,
We walked those miles together, as our love took root and grew.
Soon we were in high school, those days were total bliss,
Underneath the milky way, the moon saw our first kiss.

Her Daddy didn’t like me much, her Mama tried to see,
The love we shared together, was always meant to be.
Her family had no money, their daughter was their gold,
I sure loved that treasure, only seventeen years old.

Her Dad told me to keep away, and leave his girl alone,
I told him “Just wait and see, I’ll have her for my own.”
At night I’d sneak away to her family’s run down shack,
She would steal away to me as I would wait out back.

In the hayloft of the barn, on a moonlit summer night,
We sipped on homemade wine, and tasted love’s delight.
We inhaled that newborn love, as fresh as country air,
I had on my loving smile, and she, her long blond hair.

Lying on a blanket, in the fragrant flaxen straw,
Our love was warm and welcome, like an early winter’s thaw.
We knew it was forbidden, but we couldn’t stop the heat,
What they tried to keep away, only made it sweet.

Youth can’t last forever, but our new love never died,
We married after high school, with our families at our side.
Now we have our own kids and our love is still aglow,
That long, red road is shorter, but there’s still a ways to go.

Suddenly the tugging, on my toes brings me around,
I look up from my easy chair and my wife is smiling down.
“I don’t know what you dreamed my dear, tell me what you saw,”
I said “Let me show you dear, it has to do with straw.”

Jerry Jones, March 31, 2005

This is a small part of an offshore trip with me and Randy...
Reel Fishin`

A yellow ray from an unborn day penetrates the night,
One by one, the stars are gone, giving up the fight.
A silver moon is falling on, toward it’s final doom,
The jetties end, the Gulf begins, it’s waves awash with foam.

Sharp salt air, and fishermen prayers, pierce the weather fair,
Two old men, brothers, friends, ride without a care.
Seagull cries, cat hull glides, slicing through the ocean,
Rods are rigged with diamond jigs, dancing with the motion.

They stop about, twenty miles out, for silver hardtail bait,
The current pulls, the livewell’s full, the two men just can’t wait.
Motors silent, autopilot, set to south of east,
Hit the gas, engines fast, a growling pair of beasts.

Drifting ‘cross a man made reef, hidden by the sea,
The rod is bent, the hook is set, the battle to be free.
Drag’s a screamin`, reel’s a steamin`, the tuna’s diving deep,
Grab the rail, the gaff impales, the yellowfin they will keep.

Like that they stay, throughout the day, battles lost and won,
They’ve had their fun, the day is done, on toward the setting sun.
They reminisce, but never miss, what they’re really fishing for,
They act like boys, as they enjoy, God's beauty from offshore.

Jerry Jones, April 1st, 2005


 "In 1981 my daughter Jaime made her handprint in some wet cement where I was making a repair to our driveway. We moved from there in 1991. I was in that area just before Christmas and it was still there. The owners were kind enough to let me retrieve that piece of rock and I made a new repair for them. I mounted her tiny little handprint along with this poem and two pictures from that time and gave it to her for Christmas. That was the inspiration for this poem, as odd as it may sound to write a poem about a chunk of old concrete."

Jaime's Poem

To my daughter

It stood there like a sentinel, a stone that knew no time,
Guarding what, it didn’t know, no reason and no rhyme.

It was 1980, Jaime was barely three years old,
Her eyes were blue as the sea, her hair like fine spun gold.

She followed me everywhere I went, I remember that spring day,
“Daddy what are you doing?” “Daddy come on let’s play.”

“Can’t play right now, got work to do, come on now, don’t pout,”
“Let’s mix a little concrete, you can help me out.”

Her little hands clapped together and sparks lit up her eyes,
“I can do that Daddy, I make good mud pies.”

We worked like that together, she would say we played,
Looking back so long ago, I’m thankful that she stayed.

We formed that stone of wet cement to patch our old driveway,
She used her little hands as tools, she molded it like clay.

She worked, she frowned, her tongue stuck out, she twirled it round and round,
She shaped that stone to perfect shape, like the old one, pound for pound.

She looked at me and smiled that smile, that always touched my heart,
“How’s that Daddy?” She implored, and smoothed the final part.

“Just one more touch my little girl, my innocent sweetheart,”
“Take your hand and push it down and sign your work of art.”

With her little paw she made a print that lasted through the years,
Through hurricanes and many storms, and yes, there were some tears.

A Daddy’s love, a daughters love, once born, they’re never gone,
She left her mark in my heart, and also etched in stone.

And so my daughter here’s that stone, you signed so long ago,
Guarding what, it wants to know, through wind and rain and snow.

I’ll tell you stone just what it is, it’s simple you will find,
A twinkle from a day foregone, a cherished tick in time.

For there’s nothing on this big blue earth, or in this whole wide world,
That can ever be as precious, as the love of Daddy’s girl.

                                          Love You, Then, Now, and Always,


Christmas 2004







Beyond the Veil

It was oh so dim when the vision began,
My limbs were weary, I was just a man.
My body was sick, tired and old,
Must be a mirage, those streets of gold.

Then through the haze I saw a Light,
An angelic glow, silvery white.
I heard my daughters, then my wife,
I saw a flash about my life.

All the joys of life were mine,
Fleetingly fast, they were a sign.
But they were gone in the wink of an eye,
Life goes slowly, as it rushes by.

I felt pulled forward, toward the Light,
I felt pulled backward, toward my wife.
Entwined also, it broke my heart,
To feel the hurt, I did impart.

The twisted, mean, and sinful deeds,
That others felt because of me.
I wept, I cried, from deep inside,
I’ll take them back, I tried and tried.

This is dying, I can tell,
So far from Grace, am I in hell?
I rattled out my final breath,
I felt the chill of earthly death.

Where do I go, where does it lead?
Am I born again? I am indeed!
Slowly the aguish left my soul,
Again I see the streets of gold.

The Light rains down from up above,
He gives me comfort, I bask in Love.
He soothes the tempest of earthly seas,
He lights the flame Salvation brings.

With my spirit bright and my soul anew,
I caress the faces that I once knew.
I meet the kin I’ve heard about,
They gather round, I want to shout.

No longer sick or tired or old,
Reborn again, on the streets of gold.
I rustle my wings in heavenly air,
Rejoice and sing a jubilant prayer.

I was such a wretch when I was living,
By the Blood of the Lamb, I am forgiven.
And He with all His heavenly might,
Gave me love and eternal life.

And oh, my earthly family,
With God will spend eternity.
With love and hope and wings to sail,
                           We patiently wait, beyond the veil.

Jerry Jones






Love Tapestry


If all the things that all the kings

have ever held so dear,

And all the songs a robin sings

were ever gathered here…

If all the leaves from golden trees

that carpet nature’s floor,

And all the joys and things that please

were found behind one door…

If all God’s flowers and April showers

that breed eternal beauty,

And all the skies with all their powers,

that change as does one’s duty…

And all the love from those above

could fit inside one heart…

Then dear I know it’s you I love,

since you’re woven from these parts.


Jerry Jones







To all the brave soldiers past and present.  Thank you!

Flame of Hope

He hid behind a fallen oak, shivering in the snow,
A Revolutionary soldier, just six and ten years old.
Ducking from the British with lead shot in the air,
He thought about his mother, the gray streaks in her hair.
“Hold me Mom!” cried the boy, from deep within his soul,
“Please don’t let me die here, freezing in this cold.”

Filled with dread, Johnny Reb was hot, but cold with sweat,
And trying hard to swallow, his mouth would not get wet.
The dreams of home were on his mind, his lips were tight and grim,
His heart was young and aching, to see his gal again.
“Hold me now my darling”, went the vision in his head,
“Kiss my tears of horror, I’ve seen so many dead.”

“It’s a Long Way to
”, echoed in his brain,
As he slogged across a corn field, soaking from the rain.
“Can we stop the Kaiser, can this war be won?”
His reverie was broken, by the blasting of a gun,
Longing for a taste of home, and dodging deadly harm,
He imagined cool well water, and hay stacks on the farm.

Brown and badly tattered, he couldn’t even read,
The letter that he carried, his tears had made it bleed.
The Nazis shot his body, her words cut him like a knife,
I have found another, I no longer am your wife.
So far from home and lonesome, the bullets made him fall,
He wondered if she’d be around, to hear the bugle call.

Wading ‘cross a river, in the steamy jungle night,
A boy no longer was a man, his heart no longer light.
“Does it ever get much better? shaking as he spoke,
He took a round to the chest, his blood made him choke.”
“Tell my Mother that I loved her”, he took his final fall,
He would be among the names, carved into the “Wall.”

He slumped down in a foxhole, with sand upon his lips,
Praying to the Father, with a rifle in his grip.
He knew the terrors of the day, the gutless evil foe,
He knew he had a job to do, and miles and miles to go.
That didn’t make it easy and it didn’t make it right,
The generals win the battle, the soldier wins the fight

Here's to all those valiant men, their sacrifices made,
They carry war forever, in their hearts and to their graves.
Gallant on the battlefield, in air or on the sea,
They gave their all for freedom, they gave for you and me.
Let’s keep that candle burning, and never let it cease
Let’s pass the flame forever, let it light the way for peace.

Jerry Jones

January 30th 2005 







Blue and Gray and Blue


All alone on the farm, in it’s dismal winter gloom,

She stood there like a statue, and gray as both the tombs.

“My heart is broken husband, son, ” she said her last goodbyes,

Her tears there were frozen, on the cross, where she had cried.


Her husband died from hardship , her sons had different views,

Of the Civil war they went to fight, her family split in two.

Jeb the second of her sons, wore the Union blue,

Zach, her last born baby boy, into a Rebel grew.


Paul her oldest, fairest boy had joined the Union side,

he was shot at Gettysburg, that was where he died

She said a fervent prayer to Him, “Please God, no more graves,”

She wiped her falling tears again and turned and walked away.


Zach was marching toward the rear, through the cold,  relentless rain,

Like the Johnny Rebs all around , he marched with constant pain.

The food was bad, he shivered so, his heart was sad and low,

They trudged across a muddy field, with many miles to go.


Blue his dog tagged along, he wouldn’t stay behind,

Zach had raised him from a pup, he could read his mind.

He caught a squirrel a rabbit too, his bark was oddly strained,

He was just a huntin’ dog, Zach and Jeb had trained.


Picturesque, grotesque, unique, a sorry, starving lot,

They loved ol” Blue like their own, his rabbits helped their pot.

He earned his keep, caught some game, and gladly tagged along,

He even had a cadence to those lively, Dixie songs.


“Come on men, close the ranks!” “Keep up men,  let’s go!”

They entered into the woods, then left, the yanks aren’t far they know.

Emerging from the woods that morn, into an open field,

To another row of trees not far, the enemy was concealed.


There they stood on the crest, the woods in sharp relief,

They charged and fired toward the Yanks, who woke in disbelief.

The battle raged, the cannons fired, through blood, and smoke and screams,

Zach, ol’ Blue, his musket true, were like a fighting  team.


His hair was long, his face was black, the powder burned his eyes,

He saw a Yank to his right, they were both surprised,

Down he went, to his knee, the battle raged around,

The Yank then knew and took aim too, as he heard a baying sound.


Ol’ Blue took off as they both kneeled, to see his old friend Jeb,

He was in between when they both fired, he never turned his head.

He leapt with glee, his spirit free, their shots were straight and true,

Then a woeful bark, as they found their mark, they both hit ol’ Blue.


Blue was happy from a pup, his heart was never dark,

Resounding through the cannon fire, Blue gave his final bark.

Zach clutched Jeb halfway then, by their fallen dog ol’ Blue,

They knew right then the war was done, and what they had to do.


Far  from the blackened battlefield,  they buried their old friend,

And burned their clothes of blue and gray, and watched the colors blend.

They walked for miles through the snow, heading for their farm,

They could see its gentle glow, they knew the fire was warm.


Standing by the crosses, where Dad and Paul did rest,

Zach and Jeb were finally home, and passed the final test.

Mom, your sons are home at last, may your heartaches swiftly mend,

And they added one more cross that day, for Blue their gallant friend.


Jerry Jones

February 6th, 2005


Daddy Things

This is a tribute to my Dad, he passed away in December 2000.,

An old outboard, some trotline cord,
a paddle worn with age.
A big op hook, his old Good Book,
worn on every page.


A pocket knife, some fishin’ hooks,
a faded Astros hat.
An old jon boat and corks that float,
he left me all of that.


Catfish skinners, bait cast net,
a piece of worn whet rock.
Trotline jugs, a shaving mug,
a plank from the launching dock.


Some smooth driftwood, a pipe well chewed,
a sack of garden seeds.
Pearl mussel shells, gathered to sell,
he left me all of these.


A walking cane, it took the pain,
that brought him to his knees.
Formed from the grip of a honeysuckle tip,
curled around a tree.


Huntin’ boots, slippers too,
a water stained pair of fishin’ shoes.
A well thumbed card from Father’s Day,
signed from me to you.


The “Fisherman’s Prayer”, on a board somewhere,
a baby’s lock of curly hair.
A moustache kit, an Old Spice set,
fragrant in the air.


Camo gloves, wild game vest,
assorted hunting clothes.
Shotgun shells, the Daddy smells,
he left me all of those.


He told me all those stories,
about when he was young.
He laughed so in the telling,
they rolled right off his tongue.


The timber of his voice, in my head,
still echos ‘round.
He fell upon his humor,
to pick him up, when he was down.


He’s always in my memory,
his purpose pure and true.
His spirit’s right beside me,
in my heart he lives there too.


Most would place no value,
on the trinkets left behind.
But priceless are the Daddy things,
now stored inside my mind.

This poem would makes sense if you knew him, he was the best!!!!!!!!! The word "op" is Texas slang for an opelousas catfish, a species my Dad fished for and get as large as 100 lbs if not bigger. That's why he had a big hook made out of rebar to drag the big ops over into the boat.



Jerry Jones, January 2005

Mother Things

For My Precious Mother

A special time, a special place,
a special Mother, full of grace.
Crossword puzzle, Scrabble game,
a crocheted doily’s looping lace.

Daddy at work, kids in school,
no rest for her, work to do.
Supper to cook, laundry to do,
catfish gravy, biscuits too.

Mashed potatoes, peas and ham,
fig preserves, strawberry jam.
Blackberry cobbler, pecan pie,
homemade ice cream, my oh my.

An old salt cellar Barbara has,
chipped tea pitcher, flowered glass.
Cornbread hot, sweet tea cold,
take down laundry, need to fold.

Worn out Bible, bought on time,
tickle tongue, nursery rhyme.
Quilting frame, whippin’ switch,
coffee grinder, clothes to stitch.

Old cloth diaper, baby comb,
safety pin, won’t take long.
Art Linkletter, Godfrey show,
how she loved the Walton’s though.

Planting her garden, shelling peas,
shucking corn, pecan trees.
Pressure cooker, glass quart jars,
hot dill pickles, peas and corn.

Zinnias, Althea, Dogwood too,
Honeysuckle, dripping with dew.
Butter churn, watermelon patch,
chocolate pie she made from scratch.

Linda, Randy, first of six,
Patsy, Jerry followed next.
Barbara then, David in tow,
the last to come, the first to go.

Our childhoods seemed to never end,
to each she was a special friend.
She kissed our tears, returned our smiles,
and loved us dearly, all the while.

A cotton apron, as she went,
we all thought, she’s heaven sent.
Now inside her special place,
a silver halo lights her face.

Love and hope, forever strong,
a guardian angel, blessed our home.
And wrapped inside her angel wings,
were all those magical Mother things.

Jerry Jones, January 2005






Celestial Trip

In my ship I take a trip,
And soar up toward the stars.
You are there my maiden fair,
I love you from afar.

The moon upon your face it shows,
A smile of radiant light.
And those at home can see the glow,
The moon is full tonight.

Then we roamed, so far from home,
In to the depths of space.
I filled with fear to lose you dear,
But still I kissed your face.

We enjoyed the icy void,
And landed next on Mars.
Your hair so fair, much redder there,
Glowed like bursting stars.

Our love anew, exponentially grew,
As gas giants crossed our path.
Jupiter and Saturn, with clouds of gas,
Were fueled by nature’s wrath.

Uranus, Neptune, Pluto too,
Had sights we had never seen.
I caught a glint, like a spark from flint,
That lit your eyes of green.

The Milky Way light years away,
Spiraled like howling weather.
Our lover’s link, stretched to the brink,
Is our eternal tether.

We can’t reverse the universe,
Our timeless paths must end.
Let’s gather in this stardust hearse,
And forever ride as friends.

Our mortal souls found huge black holes,
And light speed set us free.
It stopped the time, right in our prime,
As we entered eternity.

On the other side, with ebbing tide,
No longer do we roam.
With our mission complete, forever we sleep,
Wrapped in our Father’s arms.

Jerry Jones, January 2005







As Valentine’s Day was approaching I read about a couple that had been married for fifty years. They had been very close and devoted to one another all through those years. The lady died on Valentine’s day the year before. I thought it was sad and it touched me deeply. I put myself in the man’s place and tried to feel what it must have been like for him and what he would do on the anniversary of her death, Valentine’s Day. I thought about this throughout the day as Cheryl and I had quite a bit of running around to do. My back was bothering me that night so Cheryl got her laptop as I lay on the bed and typed this poem and added her own thoughts as we progressed. This is what we wrote that night.



Everlasting Valentine

 While going through some trinkets,

        aged and worn with time,              

I came across a faded heart, that said

“Would you be mine?”


I opened up our Valentine

               of everlasting love,                                                 

And then a tear fell not from me,

but came from up above.


I couldn’t take the sadness,

                I knew was in your heart,                                             

I felt the same as you my dear,

Since death set us apart.


I took a spray of roses,

                         your favorite color red,                                 

Put them in your finest vase,

and placed it by the bed.


I found your sweetest perfume,

                  and sprayed it in the air,                      

I played our dearest music,

and felt your presence there.



I took our finest crystal,

         And chilled our best champagne,        

touched the flutes together,

A toast to us again.


I held your picture to my heart,

     And danced around the room,      

You were still my blushing bride,

and I your handsome groom.


The lights dimmed all around us,

      your veil spun round and round,     

I felt your breath upon my neck,

that sweet I love you sound.


It lasted precious minutes,

                  in my heart they’ll always stay,                  

It took away the loneliness,

and renewed our love that day.


We spent some special time my dear,

            the day our spirits flew,               

I touched your soul a loving way,

I pray you felt it too.




Cheryl and Jerry Feb 8th 2005

all rights reserved




Our Destiny 

Looking ‘cross the classroom, on a sunny afternoon,
I caught you looking back at me, your smile was in full bloom.
We were in the first grade then, we had hardly spoke,
Then one day you moved away, and left me all heart broke.

Destiny, come back to me, you’re my Destiny,
Come back to my lovin’ arms, we were meant to be.
I didn’t really know it then, but through eternity,
It was written in the stars, you’re my Destiny.

She walked into my homeroom class, in my senior year,
Pretty as that little girl, I wiped away a tear.
Her lips were red as roses, and as sweet as they could be,
This time she won’t get away, she’s my Destiny.

We were married in the spring and I left in the fall,
I wrapped you in my soldier’s arms, I was standing tall.
I was headed for the war, to keep our country free,
Then we shared our final hug, I kissed my Destiny.

Trudging through the city, with insurgents all around,
A bullet passed right through my heart, before I heard the sound.
Everything was growing dark, it was hard for me to see,
When like a star before my eyes, I saw my Destiny.

Destiny, come back to me, you’re my Destiny,
Come back to my lovin’ arms, we were meant to be.
I’m waiting in our Father’s home, and it’s heavenly,
In time your star will join with me, it’s our Destiny.


Jerry Jones, February 13th 2005



Hearts Reunited 

To those that have lost their mates...

I see your spirit in the night,
Softly flowing, a beautiful sight.
And as you speak from the astral sea,
You say these words, to comfort me.

“I didn’t mean to leave you dear,
Or make you shed a million tears.”
“I loved you so, and our sweet kids,
And I thank you now, for all you did.”

“I know you didn’t, I replied,
For in my heart you never died.”
“I remember that day, so very clear,
When I heard the words, I lost you dear.”

The world stood still, as I closed the door,
And the first big teardrop splashed the floor.
I took our kids and with eyes so bright,
And held them close, through that first night.

Then I missed those little things,
Like those shower songs, you would sing.
Or on your pillow, the scent of you,
Was slowly gone, I missed that too.

And in the night when I twitch,
You’re not there to scratch that itch.
Or if a nightmare gave me fright,
In your loving arms you held me tight.

I dreamt of when we slept as one,
Wrapped together, snuggled and warm.
And right on cue we would spin,
And change whose arms, we were in.

I missed your breath upon my neck,
That midnight kiss, how your fingers trek .
Or when we woke with sweet desire,
And quenched our tender, burning fire.

I missed your eyes, as green as spring,
And all the different looks they bring.
Sometimes happy, sometimes sad,
Sometimes frisky, sometimes mad.

I felt your essence all around,
I missed your tender, happy sounds.
I missed your hair and your touch,
I loved you so, so very much.

I know you died that fateful day,
But you never really went away.
In our kids I saw your face,
And remembered you, so full of grace.

Now take my hand with the golden ring,
Let me hear you laugh and sing.
Do those little things, that I missed so,
We’re together now, our love’s aglow.

Never more will we be apart,
I no longer have a broken heart.
Let’s love once more and never roam,
Our two hearts are one, in our new home.

Jerry Jones February 26th 2005

Valentine Blues

My wife loves this holiday,
Of Valentines to my dismay.
It comes around so fast each year,
It’s hard to find Cupid’s cheer.

It doesn’t matter that all year long,
I do those things that seem so wrong.
Like when I take her to the mall,
And tote her bags one and all.

And also through the cold and the rain,
When she gets her monthly pain,
I rush right out to the store,
And do a task that I abhor.

Through rows and rows of cotton things,
Which ones have strings, which ones have wings.
There’s the gal with the knowing smile,
She helps me on the lady’s aisle.

Or when I take her to the show,
And suffer through those flicks of woe.
I fix the car for her brother,
And to the doctor take her Mother.

I make her happy when I say,
I think it’s perfect what you weigh.
It’s always yes when I confess,
You still look pretty in that dress.

So why is it, that once a year,
In the Walmart store I must appear?
And roam among those crowded lanes,
With all those other men in pain.

Fifty feet of roses and vases,
Down both sides are zombie faces.
I look and sniff for the perfect dozen,
A death mask on my face is frozen.

I look at all the other men,
And they all have that stupid grin,
That makes us bond and relate,
Oh what a bogus holiday!

I think for what these roses cost,
Of all the beer and Slim Jims lost.
Or fishin line and rod and reel,
And how those fresh mown fairways feel.

I got the roses, card and candy,
I’m feeling good, kinda randy
And I threw in for extra measure.
A bright red teddy, what a treasure!

I’m thinking maybe after while,
When all these gifts give her a smile,
I might get lucky, if I don’t whine,
And make love to my Valentine!

Jerry Jones Feb  2005