We hope you have a lot of fun in Nineteen Hundred Eighty-One

T’was the day after Christmas

And all through the pad

Not a knothead was sober

Not even Grand-dad

We all were hung over

T’was really quite clear

From too much of the liquid

They call Christmas cheer

There were paper and boxes

And packing galore

And ribbon and scotch tap

All over the floor

It sure was a big evening

A humdinger I guess

But now it’s over

This place is a mess

Grand-dad started singing

Home on the Range

Then Dorrene looked up

And said, “Grand-dad you’re strange”

Now the old year is ended

So we’ll lay off the mix

And try to teach these

Old dogs some new tricks

Here’s a new resolution

To keep our heads clear

We’ll lay off that vodka

And stick with root beer

D.B.C.

D.B. at the Console of the Lowery Genie - His next appearance will be at Carnegie Hall

I gave Lyola a Lowery Organ

On her birthday, July five

So then I thought I’d try it out

On songs of girls that were alive

I first warmed up on Memories

Then I murdered “Mary Lou”

Next I messed up poor “Margie”

And then it was Sioux City “Sue”

I sure did tear up Ramblin’ “Rose”

And pounded “Lucille” down

Then wandered up the hill with “Maggie”

And “Alice” in her sweet Blue Gown

Next on tap it was “Louise”

Then I hammered “Baby Face”

And next she looked like “Helen” Brown

I finished with Amazing “Grace”

I finally gave up with the playing

And not a bit too soon

T’will take Lyola quite a while

To get the organ back in tune

D.B.C.

Four ways for men to tell when they're growing old

First on the list is number one

You meet some real neat Dames

But you can’t think just who they are

You start forgetting names

The second one is really bad

These folks in different places

You’re not sure that you know them, ‘cause

You start forgetting faces.

The third is sure embarrassing

You feel just like a pup

When someone comes to you and says

You forgot to zipper up

But worst of all is number four

It surely makes you frown

It’s when you realize that you

Forgot to zipper down

D.B.C.

Another Brain Storm from D.B.'s Funny Farm

Things are in a terrible state

And getting worse I guess

The whole world seems to be upset

It’s surely in a mess

The nations all accuse their neighbors

Of one thing or another

They can’t agree on any thing

They’re all mad at each other

If they do things to please someone

The others think that’s bad

Then if they try to please the others

The first ones all get mad

There isn’t much that I can do

Just hope their hate will pass

So I’ll just take it easy

And sit here on my Ass

D.B.C.

T'was A Glorious Thanksgiving Dinner, I think.

How very well do I remember

That afternoon in late November

When I went out to someone’s farm

To buy a turkey, I meant no harm

I walked up to their house to see

If they would sell just one to me

But as I opened up the gate

I thought that I had met my fate

A turkey gobbler came around

And almost knocked me to the ground

He chased me all around the yard

To stay ahead of him was hard

The farmer showed up then, by heck

And grabbed that gobbler by the neck

He won’t chase me no more that way

We ate him on Thanksgiving Day

D.B.C.

Another Brain Storm from Cody Wyo.

This Cold and snow’s got me uptight

I think I’ll go down to Quartzsite

If you are tired of cold and snow

Let’s get together and all go

At the Country Club, if Cliff will pay

We’ll play golf with him every day

Then we’ll eat at their cozy nook

‘Cause Erma is a Super cook

If they get tired of us you know

Let them come back to the cold and snow

Then we won’t come home very soon

We may stay there till May or June

I have an overwhelming hunch

They like to have the whole darn bunch

So we don’t want to make them sad

Let’s all go down and make them glad

We’ll fly - we sure won’t drive that far

I’m sure they’d let us use their car

The weather here is sure a fright

So let’s all go down to Quartzsite

D.B.C.

The Old Boy's in Another Mess

I’ve lived alone for quite a while

And it’s a lonesome life

I ran an advertisement

To try to get a wife

I said that I am handsome

And very wealthy too

I thought that sure would get them

And I’d hear from quite a few

I know that was a nasty lie

And I know it is a sin

But in a week or two or three

The mail came pouring in

I got a lot of letters

Thought I was doing fine

But they all say the same, it is

I’ll gladly give you mine

One letter said “please hurry”

That he could hardly wait

He said he’d gladly ship her

And even pay the freight

Another said he’d make a deal

If I would take her now

He would deliver her, and even

Throw in a darn good cow

Then one old guy from Utah

Who said his name is Mick

Says he has got a dozen

And I can have my pick

I sure have got me in a mess

I’ve got to get out of this jam

I see I’ll be much better off

If I will stay just like I am

D.B.C.

His head is only half full of knowledge

I was born in Nineteen-four

I’ve been alive since then

We all thought I’d get smart someday

But we weren’t sure just when

I grew up close to Keeline

One a real dry farm

Pulled a lot of childish tricks

But really meant no harm

I finally made it through grade school

Was not too good, but not too bad

When I finally graduated

It sure did make the teachers glad

Since I have now become much older

I can now begin to see

There’s lots of things that I don’t know

I’m not as smart as I should be

I thought that I was quite a wit

Thought I was really bright

But I found out a week ago

That I was just half right

D.B.

October 31, 1983 - Hallowe'en memories of the good old days

A few of us young whipper-snappers

One year on Hallowe’en

Said let’s go do some dirty tricks

Just be sure we aren’t seen

We roamed around the country side

And found this old guy’s shack

We saw what we were looking for

‘Twas a little house in the back

We thought it would be lots of fun

To turn it on its side

We knew that we could do it

If all of us goons tried

We didn’t know he was inside

Doing what he later said

Was finishing up his evening chores

Before he went to bed

Then when we push it over

He gave an awful yell

We all took off across the field

We sure did run like h--l

When he finally crawled outside

He said “well bless my soul”

Then staggered all around the place

And fell into the hole

He got out, then went to the house

As fast as he could run

And on his way we heard him say

“I’m going to get my gun”

We kept on running and finally hid

Behind a big hay stack

I’ll never forget when we upset

That little house in the back

D.B.

There's only one right end

This City boy from a place called Nome

Came out to the old farmer’s home

This Dude was really awfully green

Most things out there he’d never seen

He said “some milk would sure taste good”

The farmer said “I’m sure it would”

The farmer said “Boy you’re no fool

So take this pail and this milk stool

The herd is coming in right now

So get some milk fresh from the cow”

The boy walked up to the old cow’s head

“I’ve come to get some milk” he said

He patted the old cow on the head

And then the old cow smiled and said

“If you would like some milk my friend

You’ll have to go to the udder end”

D.B.

October 12th 1492 - Helping Columbus Discover America

October tenth, Columbus Day?

That isn’t the right date

I don’t supposes Old Columbus care

What day we celebrate

I hope he’s resting easy and

It’s good that he can’t see

The mess we have made of the

Home of the Brave and Free

They say there’s forty wars right now

And the sad thing about this is

We just can’t keep our noses out

Of other peoples business

If Columbus and Queen Isabella

Heard all the things we’ve said

I’m sure that they would both be

Happy that they’re dead

D.B.

Normal At Last

I’m finally back to normal

There’s sure a big change though

The treatment that I had to take

Sure made my whiskers grow

It sure is nice to go down town

Since the girls no longer hate me

And those old bums there on the street

No longer try to date me

They way the winter will be long

With lots of cold and snow

I may not shave again till spring

I’ll let my whiskers grow

I’ll quit dying them I guess

So they’ll turn gray because

I’ll then get me a real good job

Playing Santa Claus

D.B.

Half Way Back to Normal

I took a bunch of hormone shots

To help my bones, by golly

They surely messed up my physique

I looked a lot like Dolly

I’ve started taking treatments

I thought I should because

I wanted to reduce my form

And get back like I wuz

They cost more than I thought they would

And I ran out of money

So far I’m only half way there

And gosh do I look funny

I’ll have to write to Medicare

And plead with them I guess

To pay a few more bills to help

Me get out of this mess

If I get back to normal

And I surely hope I can

Then I won’t look so funny

I’ll look more like a man

There’s one thing that I know for sure

I’ve learned by lesson good

I’ll stay away from hormone shots

So I’ll look like I should

D.B.

The Development is getting more Revoltin'

Those hormone shots to help my bones

Worked wrong as you can see

They sure messed up by boyish form

I look like Dolly P.

I’m out of shape, I’m sure a mess

I’m taking them no more

I’ve got so big my shirts don’t fit

I don’t look like I did before

I hardly go out any more

I think the neighbors hate me

But some of those of bums down town

Would really like to date me

It’s cost about a thousand bucks

And that’s not all because

It’ll cost another thousand

To get back like I was.

D.B.

This sure is a Revoltin' Development

I have some softening of my bones

So treatments I am taking

I’m getting some male hormone shots

To try to stop their aching

I’m getting one every three weeks

For six months I’m to get ‘em

They want to give them all to me

But I’m not sure I’ll let ‘em

I’ve only taken them three months

That isn’t very long

I have a little tiny hunch

That something must be wrong

I think they’ve made a big mistake

With the wrong shots, by golly

If I take them for three more months

I may look just like Dolly

D.B.

September the 7th 1981 was such an Exasperatin' day

I realized right after dawn
This was the day to mow my lawn
And as it was no longer dark
I was happy as a lark

I started my mower up in high
And really made the old grass fly
Then I stopped to empty the sack
And things went wrong when I got back

I pulled the rope, alas, alack
I them wound up flat on my back
No wonder it didn't want to start
The starting assembly had few apart

I says go get your gun and shoot
A few holes in the dad burn brute
Then I says cut out that talk
If you do that you'll have to walk

So I says to me, cut out that jive
And push it around on the front drive
So I then knelt down to get a start
And decided to finish taking it apart

There was lots of bolts and nuts and keys
It sure was hard on my old knees
I found the trouble, fixed it and then
I finally got it together again

I got everything put back in line
I started it up and it ran just fine
I'm all set now to let the grass grow
If it does that next time I mow

I have a scheme that can't be beat
I'll cover the lawn with green concrete
Then I'll be happy with nary a care
And just relax in my easy chair

I'll type this up for you lads and lasses
If I can only find my glasses

D.B.

A Bit Of An Explanation

My grandfather, D.B. Cox, was the very best kind of Grandad...the kind that would get down on the floor and play with you; let you braid his ridiculously long comb-over and put barrettes in it; put a swing up in his basement so you could swing even when it was cold and snowy outside; build you a perfect small-person-scale kitchen cupboard, fill it with with awesome play dishes - including little pots and pans - and then have dinner with you in your little kitchen on your little dishes, even when the dinner was made of water and pork rinds.

He was also a very accomplished amateur photographer, cataloging the lives of his granddaughters (my sister and I) on a very regular basis, recording all his and Grammy's (the incomparable Marie Amend Cox) retirement trips (and there were plenty!), and photographing the beauty of the Cody (Wyoming) country he lived in and loved.

After Grammy died in 1976, Grandad had a few years of sadness, understandably. But as he came out of that sadness, he found his joy and his humor again. And he started writing poems and taking photos to illustrate them. All his poems were typed on an old manual typewriter (thus my choice of Courier font), and all his photos were taken with an old Polaroid.

My mother recently gave me all the poems he'd created. They are funny, poignant, joyous tidbits...a lot of them about family and a lot more about the perils of aging. They all make me smile and laugh, and I hope they will do the same for you.

And so begins this blog, a record of my grandfather's humorous poems...A Revoltin' Development.