This article is part of the Sing Pappy series.
Fix him up some yawm yawm peppers when he rise up. Mmm hmmm. Get a good bellyful o that.
Remember de good days. How he runned off. Bring out a silly bebe cocodrie try ta bite he own tail so much it will double de both of us up with de pomee'. Set de Bieber Bebe down at de piano and I take out my accordion.
Say, "Bebe, you need a new song. Sing Pappy gwon teach you new way to think bout dat. All de devils got in ya afore been sent away now. You gotta be strong. So let's sing us a song bout that. Sing, GWON AWAY RATTLEBONES, DON NEED YA SPIT or maybe you an' me harmonize on TURN DE GRAVE, MISS ELIZA."
After we had us a good sing I gwon writin' some songs wit de Bebe. Got some ideas bout song we could have like:
Now I take over de stage show if ya want, M. Usher.
Gwon get us some frilly dress stompin' gals an I know a mean fiddler down New Orleans way name of Eugene "Crawpappy" Gilbeau. You know anybody play de saw? Don needa be good. Jus' enough ta twang it.
M. Usher, you trust me once, trust me on de again and I set everythin' right. Gwon make de Bebe well again, god willin'.
All de best ta you an yours,
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
As the 19th century diver approaches a giant clam, a flash of brilliant golden light flares from within the shell. I emerge in a swirl of bubbles and do the timeless universal underwater hand signals for the following: ZODIAC KILLER, KKK, BLOOD OF YOUTH
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A Cajun bayou-dweller who educates singers, notably Justin Bieber, on the ways of music and life.