They know my Shreveport grandma
Lived on the wrong side of Line.
They know she weren’t no debutante.
They know there weren’t no oil wells,
No natural gas deposits.
They know when I drank
My tongue rolls the dice, but
God’s my witness, this time
I won’t show my pecan.
It’s not roasted or salted—
Only more memorable
Than a Cross Lake alligator
With a magnolia in its mouth
God’s my witness, this time
I won’t show my pecan.
It’s not candied or spiced,
Only has tenfolds of truth
And a vision for the new south.
God’s my witness, this time
When I show my pecan,
They won’t laugh
They’ll see the bits of shell
And reflect on themselves.