For Worse if We Must

Image: White sharecropper couple near Hartwell, Georgia Farm Security Administration/Office of War Information Black and White Negatives, U.S. Library of Congress LC-USF34- 018096-C


I pulled my ring from a calloused hand sir
Went and pawned it for our daily bread
We took our vows with dreams of for richer
But we must make do with for poorer instead
That July sun on my naked finger
Burnt near bad enough to kill a man
Walking dusty roads home
To where my wife was waiting
When I’d paid the rent
With our wedding band
Courting at the county fairs and revival hall dances
We’d whisper dreams of our wedded bliss
Summer ’29’s been past imagining–
We’d never feared in a hundred years
Things would come to this
Summer ’29 dried up our chances
Blew them away like ashes and dust
Till death do us part—that ain’t in question
Here’s hoping for better
For worse if we must