To be a mountain girl
You must be cold as frost on the tin roof
And hot as cinders from the wood stove
You must be witty on your comebacks
And sharp as grandpa’s yellow Case knife

To be a mountain girl
You must be tough as a pine knot
And delicate as a monarchs wings as they pulse
You must be soft as spring’s peach fuzz
And hard as the fallen walnut

To be a mountain girl
You must know how to sew with catgut
And how to heal with aloe and plantain
You must be able to rise and bake biscuits
And rest in the heat of the day

To be a mountain girl
You must know how to bait your own hook
And keep up with who’s buried where
You must know who married who
And where their children scattered to

To be a mountain girl
You have to talk to critters
And go barefoot most of the year
You must know how to plant by the signs
And what made that track

To be a mountain girl
You will appreciate each day as it comes
And be grateful to the one who made it
You will prepare as much as you can
And give grace at every turn

To be a mountain girl
You should be capable of shooting straight
Both with a gun and your mouth
And you should have casseroles in the deep freeze
And a stack of cards to send in sympathy or thanks

To be a mountain girl
Is to know which way to the river
And where to dig sang
And hold the note on hymns
And pray for the sick babies

To be a mountain girl
You will carry your own knife
And can your own tomatoes
And bake your own bread
And mind your own business