Ole Joe Jerrett was a farming man. Unlike the Hill folk, he had good bottom land, carved from the wilderness by the early Jerrett Clan. Ole Joe had tobacco, cattle and corn, and the sand of a prideful man. Well. the years moved on and ole Joe passed. He wanted a tall tombstone, a hundred or more years to last. So his kin planted him proud on the bank near the country road. Much too close if the truth be told. And each and every day the buggies and wagons passed and couldn't help but see the stone standing tall. But the folk rolled their eyes and chuckled, for only a prideful man is what they saw. Come to pass the idle chatter disturbed ole Joe, well enough to hear it, if near it. It was late one night when the wind and rains came down and the thunder caps boomed a deafening sound. And all the folk were behind a closed door spinning their mountain tales 'til the children cried, "no more!" The next morning the sun came out bright and the buggies and wagons made a pretty sight. As they clattered along in the country morn they saw the bank was torn. Out in the middle of the road the coffin lay with an open lid and hand held up, they say. The horses whinnied while the folk shout and shriek. Away! To a safer place they seek. Well, his kin put ole Joe back to rest, and tried not to dwell on this horrible mess. And the buggies and the wagons still passed by that way, but quiet, so as to let ole Joe be still and lay.
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