'Seem like a person don't no mo' 'n realize he's a descendant befo' he's a' ancestor.''Seem like a person don't no mo' 'n realize he's a descendant befo' he's a' ancestor.'
'Seem like a person don't no mo' 'n realize he's a descendant befo' he's a' ancestor.''Seem like a person don't no mo' 'n realize he's a descendant befo' he's a' ancestor.'
When I set here by myself on this po'ch so much these days an' think,—an' remember,—why I thess wonder over the passage o' time.
I ricollec' thess ez well when gran'pa planted that oak saplin'. My pa he helt it stiddy an' I handed gran'pa the spade, an' we took off our hats whilst he repeated a Bible tex'.
Yes, that ol' oak was religiously planted, an' we've tried not to offend its first principles in no ways du'in' the years we've nurtured it.
An' when I set here an' look at it, an' consider its propensities,—it's got five limbs that seem thess constructed to hold swings,—maybe it's 'cause I was raised Presbyterian an' sort o' can't git shet o' the doctrine o' predestination, but I can't help seemin' to fo'-see them friendly family limbs all fulfillin' their promises.
An' when I imagine myself a-settin' there with one little one a-climbin' over me while the rest swings away, why, seem like a person don't no mo' 'n realize he's a descendant befo' he's a' ancestor.