Silver

Look upon your mother and the silver in her hair
Consider it a crown the holiest may wear
It ain’t easy raisin' babies when they grow like ragged weeds
It’s a miracle she carried any shred of sanity
But she read her stories and forgot the glory of a multitude of saints
With her mother with, and her medicine, and her absent vanity
Look upon your mother and the silver in her hair
Consider it a crown the holiest may wear
Behold the mark of her wisdom, make it your daily prayer
To look upon your mother and the silver in her hair
On the western side of the highway, near the feet of Tennessee
A woman like a pistol and half my family tree
When the circle grew by more than two, the sawmill could not buy
Everything you need with four mouths to feed, why, you’re barely gettin' by
Look upon your mother and the silver in her hair
Consider it a crown the holiest may wear
Behold the mark of her wisdom, the sign of trouble fair
To look upon your mother and the silver in her hair
Last night in my slumber came the matriarchs I miss
They said, «Do you wanna be anointed with age’s lasting kiss?»
They’re pulling out a token of the life you’ve fully lived
This core we share, unbroken, to you we freely give
Awoken in the morning, arisen from my bed
I found upon my pillow a single shining thread (Two, three, four)
Look upon your mother and the silver in her hair
Consider it a crown the holiest may wear
Behold the mark of her wisdom, make it your daily prayer
To look upon your mother and the silver in her hair
Her hair, in her hair