HANK JENKINS WAS MY FRIEND by Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934


(Hank Jenkins – V. Rees.     Bill-Mrs. Holt)


Hank Jenkins was a friend of mine,

                        And Hank, he said to me,

Bill, how’d you like to take a trip,

                        Down to sunny Florida?


Just think it over Bill, he says,

                        I’ll run the old bus down,

And we’ll spend the winter by the sea,

                        In some sunny town,


We’ll get away from snow and ice,

                        Where skies are cold and gray,

And I’ll promise, Bill, I’ll bring you home,

                        Around the first of May.


We’ll go on a fifty-fifty base,

                        I can make it in three days,

Think the proposition over, Bill,

                        That’s the very thing Hank says.


Well I thought the matter over,

                        And decided it might be,

A pretty good idea,

                        And a needed for rest for me.


So I told Hank I’d consider,

                        The trip if he would say,

He’d get me back real early,

                        Round the first of May.


Why sure says Hank, I’ll get you home,

                        Why darn your hide, says he,

Seems you sort of lost your confidence,

                        In a good old Pal like me.


So we started out one morning,

                        When the hills were all aglow,

Never’d see a sight so handsome,

                        No matter where you’d go.


We drove along the smooth highways,

                        Through city, farm and town,

Thought we’d reach our destination,

                        Before the sun went down.


But early in the afternoon,

                        Hank says, Oh Bill, by Gee.

A relative of mine lives here,

                        I think I’d like to see.


Just wait a minute Bill, says he,

                        I’ll tell him who I am,

I think he’s a second cousin,

                        To my Mother’s Uncle Dan.


Then Hank went to have a chat,

                        He clean forgot about me,

I waited in the hot sunshine,

                        As patient as could be.


Each day was very much alike,

                        Ni matter where we ran,

Hank had some relations,

                        Like his Mother’s Uncle Dan.


He visited in the morning,

                        And he visited through the day,

To tell the truth, Hank visited,

                        Along the whole way.


And when his relations ran out,

                        Didn’t bother him a mite,

He started in on strangers,

                        And he visited day and night.


The last night on the trip Hank spied,

                        A man who seemed to be,

A havin’ trouble with his car,

                        And Hank he says to me.


We’d better tow him in, says he,

                        And then he scrambled down,

And hitched him on our bus,

                        And towed him into town.


We got to town long after dark,

                        Believe me I was glad,

‘Twas just about the longest trio,

                        I think I ever had.


With visitin’ friends and relatives,

                        And strangers he might seek,

Old Hank was way behind the time,

                        Two days beyond a week.


But winter passed and spring came on,

                        The month of May passed too,

And I am wondering what on earth,

                        Old Hank expects to do.


Up north my work’s neglected,

                        And my family seems to be,

All out of sorts with everything,

                        Especially with me.


I’d take a train back north today.

                        But Gosh Old Hanks so good,

Couldn’t find a friend just like him,

                        And I wouldn’t if I could.


So I’m waitin’ for the day to come,

                        When we’ll get started home,

And it’s going to a good long time,

                        Before I crave to roam.


To places where the sky is blue,

                        And where the sun is real,

Well, No Siree, it’s not for me,

                        If Hank is at the wheel.


I ain’t going to be a quitter,

                        One thing I’m going to try,

To stick to Hank through thick and thin,

                        If it takes to next July.


Perhaps my folks will drop me flat,

                        And I’ll feel blue, but Gee,

I’ll stick to Hank till I get home,

                        But no more trips for me.


Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934


Copyright Roy Richard

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