Pappy used to sit out back... glass of sweet tea, boots unlaced... Said, 'Boy, lemme tell you 'bout them days up north...' He said: “Left the moss behind that old porch swing, Sweat on my neck, not a dime to bring. Mama wiped her eyes with her church dress sleeve, Said, ‘Go feed your kin, but don’t you forget me.’” “Caught that train 'fore the rooster crowed, Headed north where the steel fire flowed. Hot days, cold nights, no time to heal, Just punchin’ that clock and prayin’ for a meal.” From sweat to steel, from red clay to flame, I worked for the table, not fortune or fame. Southern blood in a northern storm, Each blow of the hammer kept your grandma warm. He said: "Hands gone numb, boots stiff with frost, But quittin’ ain’t a word that the South done taught. We were ghosts in the gears, men made of grime, Paid in aches, bruises, and borrowed time.” “Factory bell rang like a Sunday bell toll, But the sermons came from a fire-fed roll. Didn’t march for gold, didn’t beg for grace, Just did my job, and held my place.” "Boy, we bled up there so you could stand tall, You hear me now when that pride calls! A man don’t run from the hurt or the heat, He builds a life with blistered feet!" From sweat to steel, from mud to bone, I gave up home to make y’all a home. Now I’m back in the moss, rockin’ slow in the shade, With stories of fire and the price I paid. Pappy leaned back, wiped his brow... Said, ‘That heat? That’s real. That cold? That taught me. But this porch... This is where my soul belongs.’
