"When Pop Swatted Skeeters"—Crooked Timber/Slim Acres
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When Pop Swatted Skeeters

(Lyrics by Harold A. Pickett; music by Scott Ryan)


Among the most vivid
Recollections I know
When I was a youngster
A long time ago,
I remember on many
A hot summer night
How Pop swatted skeeters
And Mom held the light.


A skeeter! The call
Of distress could be
From one of my brothers,
My sisters, or me.
'Twas likely to happen
Any time of the night,
And Pop swatted skeeters
While Mom held the light.


A skeeter that bothered
Little girls and boys,
If he was real smart,
Wouldn't make so much noise!
If he lit on the ceiling
His chances were slight,
When Pop swatted skeeters
And Mom held the light.


To reach to the varmints
Pop stood on a chair;
His hair was mussed up
And "shanks ponies" were bare;
And him in his nightshirt,
He made a grand sight,
When Pop swatted skeeters
And Mom held the light!