Roundhouse was the brand he wore,
The little white tag proudly shown;
Every pocket held a treasured need,
Pencil, billfold, pocket knife and comb.
Faded from dozens of hard washings,
Sort of like his calloused old hands;
But Grandpa was comfortable inside,
This was the suit of true working man.
A straw hat cocked back in the summer,
And in winter the earflapped cap;
A red handkerchief hanging from the rear,
Often we sat on that faded blue lap.
I know there’s white robes in God’s glory,
To adorn all the saints He calls;
But I think Grandpa will humbly just pass,
Preferring those faded blue overalls!
Our nation was built by these farmers,
They fed us through Depression days;
Simple good men of grit and gumption,
In those faded blue overalls every day!
-Bro. Larry Sparks
9-29-24 to Grandpa!