Ballad of Ma and Pa Kettle
By John Herlihy

I remember one story of old Ma and Pa Kettle,
A pitchfork couple made surely of sterner mettle.
Two crotchety old farm grubs, no use pretendin’.
One story of the ornery pair worth rememberin’.

Ma and Pa Kettle often walked hand to hand;
Together, they tilled crops on ancient land.
Hillbillies they were right down to the core,
Stuck together like Siamese twins and more.

One day, Ma found herself alone in the fields,
Trying to till the land of its reluctant yields.
There under the hot sun just pickin’ cotton,
Sweat tripping from her brow feelin’ rotten.

Pa was want to help wayside strays in need,
Without thinkin’ of bad ramifications indeed.
Pa had invited a poor women home for grub,
Good-hearted he was, she even bathed in a tub.

Jessie, a neighboring gossip, not given to pine,
Saw some nylon stockings a-hanging on the line.
This bit of news eager to spill from her tongue,
To whisper in Ma’s ear, until her song was sung.

Ma went all rigid and at once dropped her hoe,
Grumbling all the while, dragging herself in tow.
She threw off her cotton sack, like stung by a bee,
Thrown clear across two rows, a rage for all to see.

Pa saw her livid face comin’ fast like a torch,
As he sat smokin’ his cornpipe on the porch.
Ma eyed him like hornets released from a nest,
For once, he knew she was not a-comin’ in jest.

They fought there on the steps tooth and claw,
Like two wild animals that you ever did saw.
Spiders and their webs in her quarrelsome voice,
Broken glass in his, for sure not by his own choice.

You could hear the shoutin’ for miles around;
Hairs stood on end at the frightening sound.
Hubby and wife fought their way into the hall;
She kickin’ and punchin’ in one hell of a brawl.

He feebly raised his arms to fend off her blows;
What stirred her to a boil nobody truly knows.
She would have beaten him with a heavy pylon,
Based on the sole evidence of a fugitive silk nylon.

Someone stepped forward to try to end the strife;
In the feathery darkness, they saw a flash of knife.
Ma flung her body across her husband to shield him,
And spoke with daggers, “don’t you dare hurt him.”

Old Pa Kettle hid his face as he suppressed a grin;
Old Ma Kettle looked around wildly amid the din.
The poor old hussy laid out flat there on the floor;
The old gossip Jessie just slipped out the back door.

Every married couple has a moment in life like this.
The moment soon passes without denting their bliss.
People who have lived a long time will often say so,
Who am I to say otherwise, based on the little I know.