Page 40 Writing - Brother Harry's Big Day

Dear reader, this isn't a "story" but rather a poem. Many years ago I wrote a poem about a rather…  somewhat “Tough” man that I knew growing up. His name was Sanford Henry Isaac Twitty (his real name), the initials of which may have accounted for “Mr. Twitty’s” rough, somewhat tough, “over-bearing” nature once he retired from being a “Bootlegger” and “got saved.”

Mr. Twitty was a HARD man! He sat right behind my family – my mother and my brothers – on the pew which we normally occupied in the Hermitage Baptist SB Church. Mr. Twitty would not “put up with” any kind of “cutting up” or playing around in church – real or imagined. Any young person who dared was subject to getting his ears “boxed” from behind by Mr. Twitty. It HURT!

He had a long white mustache that flowed down across his upper lip and on either side of his mouth. We were pretty sure that Mr. Sanford lacked the middle teeth which gave him the appearance of an angry, biting DOG! He sang (from behind us) with the deepest imaginable, gravily voice! When Mr. Twitty died… we just couldn’t believe it. We just didn’t think the Lord would ever take our Mr. Sanford Henry Isaac Twitty.

I’m serious, I am NOT making this up but the day of Mr. Twitty’s funeral, I changed Mr Sanford’s 2nd name to “Harry” and wrote this poem in memory of him.

Brother Harry's Big Day

Today we laid old Harry down

And people came from all around

To pay sympathy and fare-the-well

For surely Harry had gone to hell!

It was no surprise when Harry died.

For years he drank and smoked and lied.

So, when Harry didn’t get up today,

We all buried him straight away.

And folks he hadn’t seen in years

Came to send him off and shed some tears.

There were lots of flowers and much weeping,

And Harry just looked as if he was sleeping.

 

It was Brother Harry’s big day

As we all gathered ’round him to pray

What a pity that Harry was dead

And couldn’t hear all the nice things that we said.