received this on another list and thought it sounded more true than not. -- happy spring Betty McBee Ode To A Census Taker Written by Sylvia Stevens March 2001 Some Census feller came today It makes a body scoff T'see how gullible he was 'Fore Lukey runned him off! He wuz askin' 'bout the Williamses Who live in Turkey Holler So Pap got out the moonshine jug And we all had a swaller. Now, don't ask where that likker's from Cause we'd never tell it ture! That Census is from the government. That Internal Revenoo! So Pap set down and spun a yarn Pretty as you please All about them Williamses With younguns thick as fleas! There's Nathaniel Moses Williams Or mebbe Mose Nathaniel It don't matter none to us, We always call him Cal. We didn't tell about the still That Cal keeps in the sticks And we just snickered to ourselves To beat those Census tricks! Ole Missus Williams follers next I think her name was Nancy But Pap just called her Emmaline Cause he thought it sounded fancy. He shaved ten years off'n her age (She's older'n Cal by three) And didn't name her firstborned son Cause he died in Tennessee. Well that Census feller kep askin' stuff. Pap kep thet jug a tippin' The kinfolks grinnin' like raccoons Thet Census guy kep sippin! Well, Jimmy, Joe and Johnnie Got mixed around a mite. But they're from Cal's first family And his first wife, Sairy White. Ole Missus had two daughters By Caleb Mackelroy Which Pa misspelled Markley And I think there was a boy. Mollie Ann and Sukey Got named as Cal's own kin But they's cousins from Ohio Ole Missus took 'em in. Well, time thet jug was emptied That Census man was skunked. We left him in the wheelbar'l Likkered up and drunk! Just for jakes we filled his list With all of our own kin But swapped 'em all around the place It'd make a possum grin! We listed Grandpap as our son Brother Seth and me as married And won't young Lukey have a laugh When we tell him he's dead and buried! Cousin Sam's is my firstborned gal And Mary's now a feller! We made up several younguns more, All livin' in the cellar. When he come to, that pore old guy Just staggered off fer town His head all full of nonsense An' him near fallin down! Nobody reads them Census things It's hogwash, simplepure! But us hillfolk's laughin' fit to bust- We done FOXED that Revenooer!