Ev'reh fowth o' Joo-lah growin' up, I 'member askin' mah mamma, I said "Mamma?" An' she would say "Yes, child?" An' I said "What in cotton-pickin' tarnation is dis donzerly light dat everyone keeps singin' 'bout?"
An' she would jus' smiiiiile like she always did, 'n' start singin' some ol' song 'bout Jesus while rockin' back 'n' foath in her rockin' chair on our ol' wooden poach. It was dat soft quiet smile dat said "You'll figgya it out soon enough, son."
Well, mamma, I still ain't quite figger'd out what in the blazes dat doggone donzerly light is, but one tang's fer sure: dat nat'nl anth'm is still one gosh-dern purdy sawng.
Happeh Foath, y'all.
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