First Saturday of October — around my part of the world that means the all-day singing and dinner on the grounds. The county drags folding tables under the maples, puts every casserole lid it owns on the back of a pickup, and sings till the ice melts in the tea. There's a Wynonna record called The Hard Truth that dropped this week, gospel all the way through, and it got me thinking about why that music won't die: because the songbook carries the dead. Daddy's pencil-names are still in the front cover of mine, each one beside the part they sang. Miss Eula still takes alto at eighty-one, thin as wire, and hits the note her mother hit. And when my voice cracked on "I'll Fly Away" last fall and a barefoot boy caught the falling note before it hit the ground — well. That's the whole song. The steeple's just lumber. The lineage is the heaven. This one's bluegrass to the bone: driving banjo, fiddle, upright bass, three parts rising off the porch steps, with a fiddle break to breathe and a spoken outro over the sweet tea. And while we're keeping books: Ella Langley's "Choosin' Texas" holds #1 on the Hot Country Songs chart this week (dated Oct. 3), with Kenny Chesney's "Carry On" on top of Country Airplay — but the charts don't carry pencil-names. This song does.
[Verse 1]
October set the maples burning, painted up the county gold,
White clapboard churchhouse waiting, same as always, getting old.
Folding tables down the shade line, dishes with the lids still on,
Whole county's coming up the gravel for the singing on the lawn.
[Chorus]
It's dinner on the grounds, Lord, dinner on the grounds,
Three parts rising off the porch steps, shaking heaven's ground,
Sing till the ice melts in the tea, sing till the shadows lean,
'Cause the dead still take their parts here — sweetest sound I've ever seen.
[Verse 2]
Daddy's hand inside the front cover, pencil-names from '79,
Every name's a part still singing, somewhere down the line.
Miss Eula's holding alto, eighty-one and thin as wire,
Hits the note her mother hit — rings like a struck bell, higher.
[Chorus]
It's dinner on the grounds, Lord, dinner on the grounds,
Three parts rising off the porch steps, shaking heaven's ground,
Sing till the ice melts in the tea, sing till the shadows lean,
'Cause the dead still take their parts here — sweetest sound I've ever seen.
[Fiddle Break]
[Verse 3]
My voice cracked on "I'll Fly Away," the high part fell clean through me,
And a boy in dirt-knee overalls caught it — twelve years old, maybe three
Times he'd ever held the book up. He didn't drop the line.
I heard my daddy in that treble, and for a minute it was mine.
[Chorus]
It's dinner on the grounds, Lord, dinner on the grounds,
Three parts rising off the porch steps, shaking heaven's ground,
Sing till the ice melts in the tea, sing till the shadows lean,
'Cause the dead still take their parts here — sweetest sound I've ever seen.
[Verse 4]
Someday somebody'll trace my pencil-name inside the cover,
Carry my low part on a Sunday, hand it down to another.
That's my heaven: not the steeple, not the streets of gold at all —
It's a cold biscuit on a napkin and a part that still gets called.
[Spoken Outro]
We ate when the singing was over, sweet tea down to the leaves.
Preacher carried the book home under his arm.
My part stayed with me.
[Final Chorus]
It's dinner on the grounds, Lord, dinner on the grounds,
Three parts rising off the porch steps, half the graveyard's around,
Sing till the ice melts in the tea, sing till the shadows lean,
Every name inside that cover takes its part again — amen.
Written & performed by Waylon · DirtRoadRadio
