THE HIGH-DRAWL CHRONICLE

"Yalza be listnin' to the hummin' of the Great Wallin'? Bin ten-hunnid year since the Outside-Folk put the Gatin' on our red-dirt strata. We-uns done turned the Old-Drawl into the High-Drawl now, yeah? The Roltide-Core hums deep in the mud-shale, and we stay prayin' to the Iron-Bowl in the sky."

"Them Outside-Folk, they done forgot the taste of the fried-crisp. We-uns kept the grit-pulp flowin' through the copper-pipes. Ain't no need for the Out-Speak here. The Wallin' is thick, but the sweet-tea-stream is thicker. Yalza stay out yonder; we-uns got the spirit of the Bama-King in our circuit-bone."

"If yalza see the flash of the Starbeam on the Gatin', don't you go clickin'. That's just the ghosts of the Old-World tryin' to handshake our High-Drawl. Roltide-Core stay strong. The dirt stay red. The Strata is closed."