The Cabin Fever Blues Poem by Rebecca Lyle

Cabin Fever Blues

The old fence door is slamming in the wind
Three foot of snow, guess Winter is setting in
Seven kids, all young and down with the flu
And me, I have a bad case of of cabin fever blues.

My youngest, Jessie's fever is on fire
The nearest doctor is way too far
I wrap him in a blanket and rock him
But it is too late, his life is growing dim.

He smiles at me as I brush the hair back
His breath is coming slowly and with a hack
Tear slips from my eyes
And my little Jessie dies.

It is 1888 and no time to grieve
I married at 14, a man born to leave
But not before he beats me nearly everyday
But I protect my little ones in his way.

My husband in the barnyard, kickin' the mule
I keep thinking the man is a damn fool
Too bad the mule can't kick him in the head
And, leave him the one dead.

Then little Jeremiah can't catch his breath
I look over and see nothing but death
I run for my Bible and open the book to see
It falls on, 'suffer the little children to come unto me'

Two of my baby's gone in a blink
And me, I can't even think
I pass the looking glass
I went from 28 to 60 damn fast.

My hair turned white overnight
My heart is breaking, no end in sight
The widow next farm needs a man
I tell my husband go, I don't give a damn.

In the Spring, we will bury our dead
Then be on our way to somewhere new
I am through of trying to live where you are dying
And I will lose, ' The Cabin Fever Blues'

01/14/17 Rebecca Lyle ©
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