The Old Popcorn Pot

It’s Saturday night long ago,

Out comes the popcorn pot.

Daddy twists the kitchen towel

For the kettle it is hot.

The corn starts a poppin’

And daddy starts his jig.

For he’s the pop corn man,

And with his towel, chases the kids.

The years have gone by

And times have changed.

The kids have grown and gone.

Silent and still sits the pot all stained.

The electric popper takes its place,

For every kernel pops.

No grime or grease to clean up,

It hardly takes a second thought.

Memories only linger now

When popcorns in the air,

Of merriment and pleasures long ago

To last throughout the years.

Heidi E Prewitt
 (About my father, Gene Munce, 1996)