A displaced Yankee
Is what you are
You moved to the South
Years ago, by car
You haven’t adapted
To their ways
Your same attitude
With you stays
You say what you think
You are direct
It bothers people
It has an affect
You’re not a phony
You may attack
You don’t act sweet
Then stab in the back
You don’t belong here
You’re out of place
You search for friends
Who you can embrace
To where you once lived
You can never return
Not enough money
Did you ever earn
You need to keep searching
Until you find
People like you
With the same frame of mind
By, Randee Saber 7/13/06
