Little old coal town set deep in the mountains,
The company store with the old drinking fountain.
Sleepy looking during the day when men were gone,
 They were digging deep in the mine from dusk to dawn.
 
They were indeed fortunate to survive.
And plain lucky to have come out alive.
I remember going to Dragerton in the summer,
With my friend Sunny where I was treated as a newcomer.
 
 It wasn't long before the generous spirit of her family,
Made me feel at home and part of their dynasty.
Her ancestors  turned out to be  the founding father.
Because of this I knew there would be no bother.
 
How I miss that funny little place ,
Where every one moved at a slower pace.
It had been hard for me to learn,
But some day I hope to return.
 
To where the rough old timers got paid by the carloads,
Walking along covered in coal dust on the dirt roads.
An ancient old town freshly scrubbed with whitewash,
On Saturday the standard fare was Hungarian goulash.

© Carol G Oliver