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