Jus' Wunna Them Days

Jus' Wunna Them Days
©copyright 2005 Bonita M Quesinberry


It wuz jus wunna them thar days, ya know?
Ah mean, Ah git up outta bed
knowin' fer sure it wuz a Mundee,
an' thankin God Ah wuzzent dead.

Soz, Ah gits about doin' mah bizness
when that thar phone starts a ringin.
Well, it wuz mah free-spirit'd Auntie—
'bout sixty-seven but darin'.

Anywho, Jan sez she's takin' out her hog,
but that she'd jus had a strain born.
Now, I ask ya, whut wuz Ah s'posed ta say?
"Wuz it boy er gurl ya done born?"

Well, she gits all done in by that question.
Seems she really had a brainstorm.
Now, fer yous who dun't know whut'sa big hog:
motorsicle, sounds like a storm.

Later, Vickie comments on mah new poem,
and Ah'm thankin' 'er up 'n down;
jus ta learn wuz cuz it's in'er contest.
Soz, I thank 'er agin in town.

Then, mah gearfrin in Tehxsus calls ta ask,
"Whut'cha ben a'doin taday?"
"Well," Ah sez, "Tween calls, Ah laundered mah hair
an' shampooed clothes down in tha bay."

"Had'ta threaten to whistol phip Princess,
cuz she' bizzier then a bee."
Well, it fin'lly hits 'Nita whut Ah'd said,
laff'in 'n slappin' at her knee.

"Whistol phip?" she shouts and laffs even more.
"Well, Ah meant pistol whip," Ah states.
Fin'lly, Ah gits mah self back ta workin'
at gittin a choc'late cake baked.

Well, Vickie reads anuther poem o' mine,
leavin' some real muffled applause.
She wuz clappin' er head to er shoulder!
Well, that shore gave me sum real pause.

Ah tell ya, Ah'm shore glad Ah'm a brunette;
cuz all these blonds seem a might tipped.
Bah day's end, Ah'ma thinkin' it's Thursdee.
Soz, Ah git dressed an tha bed stripped.

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