He was born in a log cabin
in nineteen hundred & ten
He lived there as an infant & then
He grew up on a sharecropper’s farm,
a sharecropper’s wage never stretched very far,
He was a child with a heart of iron & grit
never complained, not a single bit
He had a great work ethic,
took any job he could get,
worked even when he was sick,
It also didn’t hurt that he was smart as a whip
At the end of the day, all his slaving away,
lifted his family out of poverty’s grip
By: J.N.R Dutton
The Poetry Of J.N.R Dutton 