Gallinaceous preacher with a long beard, thumping bibles in the pine plantation. Walking sideways with his hands to the lord, making love to the whole congregation. Love to the whole congregation. Mississippi kite in the rye field, Sheriff’s whipping Gage with a pistol. Boiling pot cane down at the sawmill, Harlon’s on the ole train whistle. Harlon’s on the ole train whistle. Pistol shovel dry bone seems we always had some water. It was early times before its time in Marion County Georgia.

Yellow jacket walking a Crawford jug, Tottsie says, “you want a taste”? Plants eating bugs on a slope-side drain, put your money at the four catface, money at the four catface. Canebrake swallowed the rusty nail, fat lightered up the waterfall. I’ll sail through the bottle and sink through the floor until I give myself lockjaw. Give myself lockjaw. Pistol shovel dry bone seems we always had some water. It was early times before its time in Marion County Georgia. Tuscaloosa sandstone the train seemingly gets farther. It was early times before its time in Marion County Georgia.

Ants single file down Rabbit Road, sugar water and a twenty-mule team. Took an axe to the box on Backbone Ridge, while the red-tailed hawk did scream, red-tailed hawk did scream. Mama says, “you’ll die in the sandhills cutting whiskers up a lightered stump.” You’re going to grow old in the county jail with your heart pine growing numb, heart pine growing numb. Pistol shovel dry bone seems we always had some water. It was early times before its time in Marion County Georgia. Hear the Norfolk Southern juking down the line. Hear the Norfolk Southern juking down the line.