This is one of the earliest songs of my childhood and makes me think of my mom. Burl was big in my house. My mom grew up poor in Whittier and then moved to downtown Los Angeles but for a time she lived on a dirt farm in Compton. She had a pet goose during the depression that unbeknownst to her, her father cooked up for a holiday dinner when the family was short. Sizing it all up at the table, she totally freaked out. Or at least that's how she tells it. I knew the name of the goose once, long forgotten. Go tell Aunt Rhody, the old grey goose is dead.