I never will furgit hit, friends. Cammelsville, the county seat 'uv Taylor County whur I grow'd up, shore was a fun place to go back when I wuz a young'un.
Me an' PA wud go up to the poultry house an' cream stashion 'bout ever time we went to town. The town drunk wud ketch a rooster an' pore sume moonshine down hits beak.
You talk 'bout a show, friends. If'n you ain't never seed a drunk rooster, you've done missed hit all. After a drank 'er two, that rooster wud stand on one lag an' crow. Then he'd stand on the other lag an' crow. Then he'd fall down an' flop a'round lack his haid had been cut off.
We'd laff till we nearly cried. Folks jest don't know how to have a good time no more. Thar ain't nothin' more fun than a drunk rooster. I never did play none 'uv them 'lectronic games lack kids do this day an' time, but fur jest plain fun I'll put a drunk rooster up a'ginst them any time.
Friends, I reckon we'ins has got so sofisticated in Kentucky that we don't have no town drunks, an' hit's a shame. A town drunk is a harmless kinda feller. He don't harm nobody, but he's a barrel 'uv fun to be a'round.
We don't have no poultry houses an' cream stashions no more neither. In this day and time they cuts the chikens up an' sends them to the grocery stores in them little cellyphane packages. I betcha thar ain't a woman out c'here in the county that knows how to wrang a chikens haid off, skald hit, pick the feathers off an' cut hit up. You'ins kan't make chiken an' dumplin's in a mikkerwave.
The biggest waste I knows is the fack that most wimminfolks don't cook the chiken's haid an' feet no more. That's the best part 'uv the chiken. That's whut us kids got when the preacher cume fur dinner.
Thar ain't a lot 'uv meat on a chicken's foot, but you'ins kin suck the toes. Me an' Brother always lack to brake open the chiken's haid an' et the brains. They why we'uns wuz so smart.