Court Day In The South Poem by Loyd C Taylor Sr

'Oh, yes, Oh, yes... ev'r'body stand...

'The honorable Judge Billy Bob,
Over this 'ere court'll be presidin'.
Y'all lis'en fer us t' call yer name,
Then tell where y'all be residin'.

'Now, before we go any ferther
Into this respectful trial t'day,
I'll warn ya once but not twice:
Best hear what I'm ‘bout t' say!

'Ain't gonna be cell phones 'r pagers,
No iPods or Bluetooth in yer ear.
We won't have them ole baggy pants;
You'd better pull 'em up rat here!

'There's t' be no movin' 'round,
And no vulgar skin that's bare;
We won't tolerate any fussin' or cussin',
Or it's a heap of trouble, I swear!

'There'll be no wearin' of any hats,
No talkin' 'r gawkin' at others,
No snoring, and no nose borin',
Ya hear me, sisters 'n' brothers?

'Another thing I need t' make clear
'Bout them youngens there in the pew:
If they make any ole racket at all,
They'll leave here, 'n' so will you!

'Y'all listen up; now, set rat down.
Look up here and hush yer mouth;
I'm mighty proud t' welcome y'all
To my court here in the South.

'God save the South... God save us all! '