LYRICS:

"Lowcountry Folklore"

Lowcountry Folklore, stitched in the seams,

Of summer days and storyteller dreams.

Where Grandma’s porch held tales untold,

And Gullah voices turned memories gold.

Lowcountry Folklore, whispered through trees,

Live oaks swaying in salt-kissed breeze.

They’ve seen the years, the tears, the grace,

The fishing tales time can’t erase.

Lowcountry Folklore, carved in the stone,

Cobblestone streets where spirits roam.

Sweetgrass baskets, marsh-born art,

Woven with rhythm, woven with heart.

Lowcountry Folklore, sung by the rain,

On tin roof lullabies, soft and plain.

That creaky screen door, that sleepy-time sound,

Felt like heaven had settled down.

Lowcountry Folklore, palmetto strong,

Shielding the forts from cannon’s song.

Church bells ringing, stories rise,

Faith and folklore never dies.

Lowcountry Folklore, where haints still creep,

And boo-hags visit when you sleep.

But Grandma knew just what to say,

To keep those spirits far away.

Lowcountry Folklore, passed hand to hand,

From marsh to market, across the land.

A writer’s pen, a poet’s voice,

To honor roots, to make the choice.

So if your heart beats Southern true,

And stories rise like morning dew,

Come share your soul, your porchlight prose,

Where every tale in rhythm flows.

Tell your Southern stories at TinRoofTales.com.

The podcast for Southern Authors, Writers, and Storytellers.

You know... where Southern stories come from?

If you're a Southern Author, Writer, and/or Storyteller... TinRoofTales.com, or something like it, could be your podcast!

Let's get you and your stories online and on the mic for the masses to consume!

If you are ready, or curious about how to take your stories to the mic, message me or email me at arlee@blurbidea.com. Get the story and the details.