Big Rock Candy Mountain

Joe had been walking for miles, his boots worn thin, his stomach grumbling louder than a passing train. He was a drifter, a hobo, one of many who wandered the roads and rode the rails looking for work or a warm meal. Life was tough, and the nights were cold, but Joe had a dream, a place he swore he’d find someday. He called it the Big Rock Candy Mountain.

There, the sun always shone, and the trees were heavy with fruit pies. The rivers ran with lemonade, and no one ever went hungry. The barns were filled with soft hay for sleeping, and the cops never chased a man just for being down on his luck. In this land, the work was easy, and the pay came in silver dollars, not just empty promises. The dogs were friendly, never barking or biting, and even the railroad bulls tipped their hats as the hobos passed by. It was a place where life was sweet, the worries melted away, and a man could finally rest. Joe kept walking, telling his story to anyone who would listen, hoping that someday, just over the next hill, he’d finally see the Big Rock Candy Mountain waiting for him.

Photo/Arbyreed/https://bit.ly/37xBrUu