| Mildred Madalyn Johnson
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| Born in the autumn of 1916
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| A shy, pretty girl from east Texas
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| Religious and restless
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| Humble and kind as a person could be
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| She loved to sing in the choir, 'loud and inspired
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| Her head tilted down, keeping time
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| Or tell stories with friends after supper
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| Ignoring the hour
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| A Calico cat fast asleep at her side
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| And she loved to drive her big red car
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| Though she couldn’t see over the hood very far
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| She’d back out the driveway
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| And point that thing down the road
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| We’d say, «Lord, there she goes»
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| Her hair was silver and messy
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| She walked in a hurry
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| Worried about wasting the day
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| Some nights she sat at her dresser
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| Composing long letters
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| Falling asleep with a pen in her hand
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| And she loved to drive her big red car
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| A scarf 'round her shoulders, her foot to the floor
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| Down to the grocery, she’d wave goodbye
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| And we’d pray, «Lord, bring her back safe»
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| And she loved to drive her big red car
|
| Though she couldn’t see over the hood very far
|
| She’d back out the driveway
|
| And point that thing down the road
|
| We’d say, «Lord, there she goes»
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| Mildred Madalyn Johnson
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| Marvelous woman
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| I was so lucky to call her my friend |