The broom man and the scissors grinder
Both stopped in front of my house, today.
The road is wider and makes a good place
To show your wares and talk to the customers. 

Hamp Hensley makes brooms all winter sitting
There in his smoke house. The brooms all smell
Of good country ham. Guess it makes them sell
Out real quick, ’cause his store sure don’t last long. 

Scissors grinder is a gypsy. I’ve always been plumb
Fasinated by the Romans. Their dark skin, bright
Eyes and painted wagons, bring to mind far places
Where you could see sights not dreamed of here. 

Spring cleaning had not settled in a single corner
Of my brain until they stopped. Then I took it on 
Myself to look around. It was as if I was seeing
The whole place for the first time. 

I probably hadn’t given it a thought since Orville died. 
Mercy, did that man hate Spring housecleaning. 
Said it was useless with the railroad and the mine
Spewing smoke, soot and dirt with every belch. 

He was right, but clean gets in your blood along 
The time the Sarvice and Redbus starts poppin. 
Besides that my girls need to know that clean’s
Not the problem of the mine people, it is ours. 

I made a bargain with my neighbor that I”d iron
Some for her in return for four rolls of wallpaper
That she stored back after the last flood. Nothing
Is quite as clean smelling or looking as new paper. 

I think I saw a red Cardinal today, he’s nest looking
For his duller mate. That’s the way it is, he finds the spot
She piles the twigs and reddens it up, and settles down
To bring on the little ones. Which was just like me and Orville
but our world decided agin’ us, nesting quaranteed nothing.