Uncle Guffy lived with his wife, Milly, in a weather boarded house on a rocky knoll below a cold water spring. Because of a marriage explosion, they were raising a grandson, Willie.
In his younger years, a mine accident caused Guffy to wear a peg leg for the rest of his days. Because he was such a good entertainer, all paths led to his house. He clawhammered a homemade banjo; Milly tapped her toes to the tunes he played on the french harp. He could play "Home Sweet Home" on his paper covered comb. Standing on his peg leg, he could dance on his right foot. While the beans was cooking, he whittled rabbit trap triggers for the backwoods boys.
Uncle Guffy and his little dog, Scooter, were the best possum hunters in all the backwoods. One dark night before the frost tinkered with the grapevine, Uncle Guffy lit the lantern, Willie whistled for Scooter and they were off in the woods for another possum hunting adventure. Willie climbed the tree to shake the possum down. In just a short time, there was three possums in the sack. At 15 cents each, their skins would buy Milly cotton stocking and enough snuff to last her through the cold winter.
All of a sudden, the clouds opened up and rain began to soak the possum hunters. They took shelter in Big Bear Baptist Church where a revival meeting had been raging for a week. It was plain the preachers wanted everyone to go to heaven, and even possum hunters. The altar call came and Uncle Guffy answered the call. It is unknown if he wanted to go to heaven or if he was just giving the preachers another opportunity to practice their professions. They gathered around him like black and tan hounds baying a polecat. The roaring commotion scared little Willie. In the lamplight darkness, the Big Bear Choir began singing "The Old Ship of Zion". Willie got scared. He sneaked out the church house door, and ran home just as fast as twelve year old legs can run.
At home, Milly asked, "Willie, where is your grandpa?" A breathless Willie answered, "Grandma, I don't know. He is probably dead by now. When I left, they were singing "The Old Sh*t's a Dying."
In his younger years, a mine accident caused Guffy to wear a peg leg for the rest of his days. Because he was such a good entertainer, all paths led to his house. He clawhammered a homemade banjo; Milly tapped her toes to the tunes he played on the french harp. He could play "Home Sweet Home" on his paper covered comb. Standing on his peg leg, he could dance on his right foot. While the beans was cooking, he whittled rabbit trap triggers for the backwoods boys.
Uncle Guffy and his little dog, Scooter, were the best possum hunters in all the backwoods. One dark night before the frost tinkered with the grapevine, Uncle Guffy lit the lantern, Willie whistled for Scooter and they were off in the woods for another possum hunting adventure. Willie climbed the tree to shake the possum down. In just a short time, there was three possums in the sack. At 15 cents each, their skins would buy Milly cotton stocking and enough snuff to last her through the cold winter.
All of a sudden, the clouds opened up and rain began to soak the possum hunters. They took shelter in Big Bear Baptist Church where a revival meeting had been raging for a week. It was plain the preachers wanted everyone to go to heaven, and even possum hunters. The altar call came and Uncle Guffy answered the call. It is unknown if he wanted to go to heaven or if he was just giving the preachers another opportunity to practice their professions. They gathered around him like black and tan hounds baying a polecat. The roaring commotion scared little Willie. In the lamplight darkness, the Big Bear Choir began singing "The Old Ship of Zion". Willie got scared. He sneaked out the church house door, and ran home just as fast as twelve year old legs can run.
At home, Milly asked, "Willie, where is your grandpa?" A breathless Willie answered, "Grandma, I don't know. He is probably dead by now. When I left, they were singing "The Old Sh*t's a Dying."