My Big Ears Indicated A

You'll Never Miss The Water 'til The Well Runs Dry.

Saving Was Slow And Painful.

If My Serenade Of Song And Story Should Serve As A Pillow For Some Composer's Head, As Yet Perhaps Unborn, To Dream And Build On Our Fond Melodies In His Tomorrow, I Have Not Labored In Vain.

I Knew The Whistle Of Each Of The River Boats On The Tennessee.

The Blues - The Sound Of A Sinner On Revival Day.