The Secret Sisters — Silver

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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