Living on the road my friend
was gonna keep you free and clean
and now you wear your skin like iron
and your breath as hard as kerosene

You weren’t your Mama’s only boy
just her favorite one it seems
She began to cry when you said goodbye
and sank into your dreams

"...if the gentlemen of Virginia shall send us a dozen of their sons, we would take great care in their education, instruct them in all we know, and make men of them." Canasatego 1744