My Big Ears Indicated A Talent For

Saving Was Slow And Painful.

I Knew The Whistle Of Each Of The River Boats On The Tennessee.

The Name Of My Ailment Was Longing, And It Was Not Cured Till I Finally Went To The Department Store And Counted Out The Money In Small Coins Before The Dismayed Clerk. When I Came To The House, I Held Up The Instrument Before The Eyes Of The Astonished Household.

Where The Tennessee River, Like A Silver Snake, Winds Her Way Through The Clay Hills Of Alabama, Sits High On These Hills, My Home Town, Florence.

Life Is Like A Trumpet - If You Don't Put Anything Into It, You Don't Get Anything Out Of It.