Peachtree's Inferno
Written by Jonathan Henderson
Tuesday April 8, 2014 @ 6:06 AM
Singing Southbound into Georgia, a brisk breeze nips
The early warm air of April's skies, and she shall ensue
Her rainy trickles of baptism's rites issued, its diffusion
Always till she begets o' my soul while sowing the seeds
Of May flora, and how my fauna sings to me of her blue
Bells across expanses of peanut galleries to Vidalia land.
Crossing the terrain over the highlands of Mt. Lookout
Till I see the delights of Chickamauga, and my! I recall
The annuls telling stories more than seven score and of
Seven pence of the man Gen. William Tecumseh, ye old
Butcher of a life once a sip of mint juleps upon lighting
Brightest his darkest state of despair, and to allow fiery
Embers percolate through Peachtree Boulevard's town
In the skies till Tara cries mercy, yet Willie T. died 'fore
The anathema's legacy scorched my earth of my blest
God's covenant of this, a life well spent.
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