Court Day In The South Poem by Loyd C Taylor Sr

O yes, O yes... ever'body stand...

The honorable Judge Billy Bob;
Over this'er court'll be presidin.
Y'all lis'en fer us ta call yur name,
Then tell where y'all be residin.

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

Ain't gonna be cell phones er 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' around,
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' er gawkin' at others,
No snoring, and no nose borin',
Yuh hear me, sisters en' 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, en' so will you!

Now listen up, now set rat down,
Look up hear and hush yur mouth;
I'm mighty proud ta welcome y'all,
To my court, here in the South.

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