I am from Mason jars,
From Vinegar, Cirto, and cane sugar,
I am from rich wet soil from the canefield,
I am from the fig tree, the blackberry vine, and strawberry plants,
Plump, juicy, they taste tart and sweet,

I am from Cadillac! Liar! and Punchbuggy!,
From chin clefts and thick dark hair,
From Allen and Georgie and Mae,
I am from pushing the tables together at restaurants, from duckfaces, and footloose,
I am from “Go play in the streets” and the “Stop makin’ boudin,”
I am from “J’ai Vous Salous Mary” and  “This is the day the Lord has made let us rejoice and be glad,”

I am from boudin, cracklins, and crawfish,
From my grandfather playing baseball with a brick and a stick,
From my aunt saving my mom from a bull,
And riding around in the Gator in the back sing the SpongeBob song,

I am from 24 handmade Christmas stockings strung over the archway,
From beach pictures with matching Papa shirts,
From Friday night gatherings at grans,
with live Cajun music, card games, and hide and go seek in the dark,
I am from Sunday morning mass often late and scattered,
Followed by coffée, cookies, and Cajun music jamborees.