Sweet Tater Pie
Down in Alabam where big sweet taters grow
lives great aunt Cyndi diggin dirt with a hoe.
Up in the morn bout the crack o’ dawn
see for miles where she’s dug up the lawn.
Hard as nails with hair sweet- tater- red
she could set a table, make you feel fed.
Wave you down and ask you to stop by
have a piece o’ her sweet tater pie.
Smash sweet taters and hickory smoked pork
a chilled bottle o’ wine with a stuck cork.
Cornbread in the oven ready to take out
Slap your mama silly, lip smackin no doubt.
Dawg’s patiently waitin on the back stoop
for the cornbread mush and sweet tater soup.
With tongue a hangin and tail a waggin
shortly his tummy will be a draggin.
Sweet tater pie with whipped cream on top
you’ll eat so much you’ll think you’ll pop.
Sweet tater pie my sweet love from the south
more o’ sweet tater pie, well shut my mouth.
Copyright © 2010 By Caryl S. Muzzey
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