South Carolina summers were hot,
They were long and dry,
And for Mama, they were lonley.
Mama lived at the very end of our street.
She lived alone,
No chil'ren and no Husban'
She spent her days makin' sweet tea
And leomonaide, and pound cake.
She'd sit on her ol' rockin' chair,
And she'd whistle.
Mama was the best whistler in town,
All the kids in the neighboorhood came by
To hear her whistle.
She'd watch over us,
Scold those in need of scoldin'
She'd tell us not to climb the big oak tree
But we still did.
I didn't know it then,
But those long summers
Were the best I ever had.
The ice in my glass of sweet tea
Shone like diamonds.
And Mama's song,
Still plays in my head.
South Carolina summer were hot,
And they were too short.
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 8:29 PM UTC
South Carolina summers were hot,
They were long and dry,
And for Mama, they were lonley.
Mama lived at the very end of our street.
She lived alone,
No chil'ren and no Husban'
She spent her days makin' sweet tea
And leomonaide, and pound cake.
She'd sit on her ol' rockin' chair,
And she'd whistle.
Mama was the best whistler in town,
All the kids in the neighboorhood came by
To hear her whistle.
She'd watch over us,
Scold those in need of scoldin'
She'd tell us not to climb the big oak tree
But we still did.
I didn't know it then,
But those long summers
Were the best I ever had.
The ice in my glass of sweet tea
Shone like diamonds.
And Mama's song,
Still plays in my head.
South Carolina summer were hot,
And they were too short.
