A poet with class, he once caught a bass

The renowned Tom Demphis, a “hillbilly poet,” is from tobacco country, although he doesn’t grow it.  He does find time to write about it, though; take his sonnet on cigars, “Puff, but Don’t Blow.”  A Tennessee native, his home in the Smokies, he’s known for his ballads – they’re pure, almost hokey.  He writes often on fishing, his favorite pastime; for instance, “Nobody’s an Angler Like I’m.”  His newest work, which is turning some heads, is called “I Caught That Bluegill Right off the Spawning Beds.”

But we all know Tom Demphis, from just west of Memphis, for “Got Me a Lass and Caught Me a Bass,” which is by all means a great epic nonfiction, and makes good use of his own southern diction.  It’s hard to not smile at his stumbling meter; his rhymes are all sweet, though that bass-meat was sweeter.  His skill far exceeds anyone’s on The Camel – he sloughs off those rhymes like his teeth’s old enamel.  So without more ado, and withholding more fuss, we present his short poem, “When I Get Mad I Cuss.”

When I Get Mad I Cuss
By Tom Demphis

When I get mad I cuss, I sure do.
When I get mad I cuss and turn blue.
When I’m angrier’n hornets,
My mule’s sick so I mourn it,
My shirt’s ripped ‘cause I torn it,
My sheep’s shorn ‘cause I shorn it,
When I get mad I cuss and throw shoes.