First Monday poem

The following poem by the late E.A. (Boots) Potter (my dad)
describes Scottsboro’s “First Monday.”
Written back in the 70’s & was printed in the

The Daily Sentinel in Scottsboro
©
First Monday

Once a month in my home town
People come from miles around.
They come by wagon, horse back or car
Some even walk if it’s not too far.

Candidates, preachers, and old mountaineers
Have been coming here for many years.
Some bring their dogs and family too
All kinds of junk both old and new.

And the things they bring for trade
Some they bought and some they made.
Whatever you want just look around
If it was ever made then it’s in town.

Rummage sales and soft drink stands,
Coin dealers and country bands,
Pocket knives, bottles and jars,
Banjos, fiddles, and electric guitars.

First Monday of the month twelve times a year,
People come from far and near.
First time for some, but that’s no sin
If you see it once you’ll come again.

Now as to me- -I’m getting old
And when I was young I was told
This day was started by a swapping deal
Of two work horses out in the field.

Each man agreed when the horses were tried
They would meet First Monday if not satisfied
Each one left when the date was set
That’s how it started and it’s going yet.

If you’ve never been, then you’ve missed a lot.
There are many things you could have got
A gun, a dog or a pocket knife
Most anything- -even a wife.

Girl watchers come from far and near.
Beautiful girls are always here.
Blacks, Whites and Indians too,
Long haired hippies, we have a few.

But it’s not so bad ‘til you look around
At the mess they leave when they leave town.
Now as residents, we always stay
To get it cleaned, the city must pay.

So when you leave just look around,
Try to leave it like it was found.
One other thing I’d like to say
You all are welcome---enjoy the day.