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One Yellow, Foppish Tough

One Yellow, Foppish Tough Harry Brown Appalachian Heritage, Volume 16, Numbers 2 & 3, Spring/Summer 1988, p. 98 (Article) Published by The University of North Carolina Press DOI: https://doi.org/10.1353/aph.1988.0099 For additional information about this article https://muse.jhu.edu/article/441443/summary Access provided at 19 Feb 2020 23:11 GMT from JHU Libraries women quickly put away the leftover "Rake it up," Daddy said, "and put it on food, the dirty plates and forks and my truck. It's too wet to burn now." glasses. Soon the line stretched from Daddy backed up to the gate and we carried forkfuls to the truck, our hair corner to corner, from the Tillerys to the Howes, the live ones and dead ones. I dripping water and clothes sticking to our skins. raked till Daddy handed me a hoe and We dashed across the road to the said I could grub the weeds as good as any man. church porch where the women were We still had a ways to go when a cloud waiting. Through the heavy rain we came up and a cool breeze began to could see the cleared ground and the blow. We got to make haste," Daddy tombstones shining. ' Yes, sir," Mr. urged. We hoed and raked http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Appalachian Review University of North Carolina Press

One Yellow, Foppish Tough

Brown, Harry, --
Appalachian Review , Volume 16 (2) – Jan 8, 2014
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Publisher
University of North Carolina Press
Copyright
Copyright © Berea College
ISSN
2692-9244
eISSN
2692-9287

Abstract

Harry Brown Appalachian Heritage, Volume 16, Numbers 2 & 3, Spring/Summer 1988, p. 98 (Article) Published by The University of North Carolina Press DOI: https://doi.org/10.1353/aph.1988.0099 For additional information about this article https://muse.jhu.edu/article/441443/summary Access provided at 19 Feb 2020 23:11 GMT from JHU Libraries women quickly put away the leftover "Rake it up," Daddy said, "and put it on food, the dirty plates and forks and my truck. It's too wet to burn now." glasses. Soon the line stretched from Daddy backed up to the gate and we carried forkfuls to the truck, our hair corner to corner, from the Tillerys to the Howes, the live ones and dead ones. I dripping water and clothes sticking to our skins. raked till Daddy handed me a hoe and We dashed across the road to the said I could grub the weeds as good as any man. church porch where the women were We still had a ways to go when a cloud waiting. Through the heavy rain we came up and a cool breeze began to could see the cleared ground and the blow. We got to make haste," Daddy tombstones shining. ' Yes, sir," Mr. urged. We hoed and raked

Journal

Appalachian Review – University of North Carolina Press

Published: Jan 8, 2014

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