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© 2011 W.A. Kostelec
(The Devil is Beating His Wife)
Standing in the White Angel Breadline, a brick mason in a ragged coat
Calloused hands stuck deep in his pockets, finding only lint no copper no gold
A Model A parked in the shade of a fruit tree, children look hopeful but the fruit’s all but gone, just a couple wormy ones up high in the branches
On the road to Oregon.
There’s a woman digging potatoes in her garden, her boys are down at the railroad looking for coal, Man’s been gone 3 months on a job in Wisconsin; be back in November when the Winter gets cold
Down the hill the Steel mill is silent, Smokestacks ain’t smoking and the conveyors won’t roll, a couple old workers looking through the fences all padlocked and bolted, With nowhere to go.
In that Great Depression, in our black and white dreams, some left without nothing, others living on lean.
Hoboes with their bindles, chasing rumors of work, and families all broke up, by hunger and hurt.
In a beat up jalopy, a rough and long hard ride, but they came through that desert, out to the other side. When things get shaky, when things all go wrong, will we stand the testing, Will we come out strong?
In that Great Depression, in our black and white dreams, some left without nothing, others living on lean. In a beat up jalopy, a rough and long hard ride, they came through that desert, out to the other side.
They came through that desert, out to the other side.
