Hanner Hart, Hanner Hart, they all called me.
The problem with husbands is, they don’t last!
After Ed died, I was on my own for 45 years,
And it was hard times for Hanner Hart.
I kept body and soul together by visiting for a spell.
Why, how are you? I’d say
Walking up to a neighbor’s door,
I just been thinking about you!
And then I’d stay,
As many days as I could.
When my welcome was about wore out,
I’d visit someone else.
Why, how are you? I’d say,
And then I’d stay.
Hanner Hart, they called me, Hanner Hart.
I wish husbands were made of better stuff.
This is no way to live for Hanner Hart.
In October of 1932 I married George,
And we raised five children,
Sending them to the Dogwood School
And the Pleasant Hill EUB Church.
Then I left him.
People thought that I was a bad person,
But we all change, times change,
We buy new clothes, we re-paint the parlor.
Sometimes we need a fresh start.
We want more than Homemakers, or the Ladies’ Aid Society.
After years of cooking for my family,
I said good-bye to the farm on Upper Buck Creek
And began cooking for others.
I never disliked George; I just tired of him.
He found a new wife,
And I found a new life.
But when we were very, very old,
Our children took us to the same nursing home,
And as the sun set,
We sat together, as in old times, holding hands.
I married John, giving birth to Junior when I was twenty,
And Shirley when I was twenty-two.
Because the children needed a father after he passed away,
I married Maurice in 1921.
After Maurie died, I married his brother Harold.
Folks said I was making eyes at Harold at the wake,
Maurie hardly cold in his coffin.
Maybe I did, but I had two children still at home
And they needed another man in the house.
When I died, I was one hundred and six,
The longest living person in the Pleasant Hill Cemetery.
You don’t live that long
Unless you plan ahead.