he was the greatest living hero
‘ever came out ta Appalachia
they all knew his name there
from Meada’s-a’-Dan
to downtown Galax
from Fancy Gap
‘ta right back at ya
a girl there she got his number
then she became his wife
she said i ain’t saying nothin’
but this’ll be one hard life
you ain’t got hardly a dollar
so’s it’s prit near clear to me
sure’s hell yer from down in
old chicken shit holler
no one there’s got one damn dollar
you just gotta be from
chicken shit holler
and his life ensued
he got a job
and he got screwed
he got a right real attitude
then he got plum downright rude
began to feud, came unglued
he tried to make his fortune
and he jest got all tripped up
knocked down
worn out, bashed in some
got lost on endless highways
let it all get under his skin
he had it up to here back then
but hey they had a few good days
then he would just move on
’cause he didn’t like the bosses
didn’t like the rules
couldn’t face the losses
didn’t want to deal
with all them damn fools
when his wife looked right at him
and told him it to him straight
she said i ain’t saying nothin’
i know you do it for the dollar
but it looks to me like
you’re headin’ back home ta
old chicken shit holler
i said i think you’re right
time to stand up and fight
i ain’t going back to old chicken shit holler
even if i’m down to my last dang dollar
and he looked in the mirror
said his boss was an f’in clown
things got a bit clearer
he wasn’t backin’ down
then he told it straight to his a-hole boss
that he was sick and tired
‘yer the worst damn boss i’d run across!’
his boss said, ‘well, anyway, you’re fired’
and our hero said, “Your Loss.”
when he got home
his wife looked right at him
and told him it to him straight
she said i ain’t saying nothin’
but screw the almighty dollar
it looks to me like
you’re fixin’ to git yerself out of
old chicken shit holler
you’re on your way out
of old chicken shit holler
i’ve done my time
i ain’t no damn scholar
gettin’ the hell out a’
old chicken shit holler
if i have to spend my last half-dollar
gettin’ the hell out a’
old chicken shit holler
leave it behind
i’m proud of my blue collar
ain’t a goin’ back ta
old chicken shit holler
© Copyright 2021 Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks / All Rights Reserved
Brooks Bradbury 
Brooks I loved this poem. I listened to the audio and it made it nicer. Thank you
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Thank you Marilyn! This was the name of an actual Appalachian neighborhood where we lived in southern Virginia. So called because everyone left their doors open, and the chickens were always running in and out!
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