Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Ode to the Mud Sale, A Lancaster County Tradition

Living in Lancaster County
for the past ten years
Has been such a bounty
As we travel new frontiers.
Towards Winter's end
And the beginning of anew
A promise from above
As spring rounds the bend
And the winds of March blew
Is what I write of.

I have seen so much
Can it be true,
This lifestyle they call "Dutch"
Was plainly in view.
Yet this tradition stuck out
As springs winds blew in,
A new sense of hope
That all could not doubt!
Even we here at the Inn
Gave an extra bar of soap!

They play in the mud
For reasons not sure,
I've seen a good bud
Dodging manure!
He twisted and turned
To bid on a quilt
He thought was just right
And as the bidding adjourned
He was riddled with guilt
That his bidding took no flight!

The crowds oh how big
The sights are aplenty
They've roasted a pig
Sandwich? A buck twenty!
And as I watch closely
The day go by
I remember one thing
The thing I need mostly
And it's not whoopie pie
Is a brand new box spring!

So my day... oh how nice!
I've trudged through the dirt!
I've eaten pretzels twice,
And stained my polo shirt!
Was it all worth it?

My friends up north asked
A "Mud Sale" to see?
My answer with wit...
The local culture I've passed
Yet it's only quarter to three! 

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