Honey, her tits were all but dragging the ground.
She came loping down the mountain and took
the road at a trot. She had pups somewhere
I figured and was hunting her a rabbit. I whistled
but she shortcutted back up into the woods.
Next day, she inched a little closer but when I called,
just as soft as a biddy, she turned tail and scratched up
the ridge. Now tomorrow, we’ll see how she likes a song.
Do you know this one? Old yeller dog come trotting
through the meeting house way down in Alabam …