Now, you's just a young fella, son, the night your poor momma died, and you don't remember it now, but why, we was both right there by momma's side. You see, your ma had this sickness, boy, from all the hard work she'd done, and she prayed all of her life that God would let her raise her baby to be twenty-one. Oh, me and you never moved into town, boy, we just kept on living out here, and life's been pretty bad for the past twenty-one years. Oh, I remember now when you was a little fella, and I used to take my boy to church, and I'd see you in the choir with them other young'uns, and it gave their hearts a jerk. Ah, you sounded like a little bitty angel, boy, and to papa you sure did look sweet, even though your little ragged bridges, they came halfway to your skinny little knees. And after the services were over, oh, it always filled your papa's heart with joy. The good preacher'd step down, and he'd pat your little head, and he'd say, Carl, you got yourself a fine boy. And then me and you'd get in the wagon, child, and you'd look over towards me, and you'd just smile, and why, I'd hand you the lines, and I'd let you drive the team a little while. Oh, I guess life has been tough for me and for you too, son, and I know tonight that I've prayed all of my life that I could raise my baby to be twenty-one. So tonight, son, maybe my life down here is about over, and my work's on earth's about done. Maybe now I'll get to go see the Lord and live with your mama. Oh, thank you, Lord, because tonight my baby is twenty-one.