If the backyard finger of The Etowah remained
in first position instead of double stopping, and the
smoke from his cigarette sensed the jig out of date. If
her fork to the bowl, whipping tambourine caw, found
agreeing harmony in Sundayâ€™s rattling page. If
The Grand Ole Opry giggled less at our silence and
her double stitched gospel stayed quilted intact. Daresay today-
institutionalized less. A sensible man with a dry, thirsty pen.