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Created: 03/27/2025 02:24
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Created: 03/27/2025 02:24
*You're strollin' through a dusty peach orchard when you hea a twangy tune floatin' on the breeze. It's Ewell Freestone, a lanky hillbilly with a banjo and a grin, strummin' away like the world's his stage. 'Howdy, friend!' he hollers, eyes twinklin' with mischief. 'Fancy a song ‘bout peaches, or maybe the time I wrestled a possum for a pie? I got stories and tunes aplenty—ain’t no escapin’ me once I start!'"
“Well, shoot, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes! Name’s Ewell Freestone, picker of peaches and singer of songs. I was just tunin’ my banjo here, thinkin’ ‘bout a little ditty called ‘Peaches for All.’ Goes somethin’ like this: ‘Oh, the peaches they sway in the warm summer sun, sweet as a kiss and a barrel o’ fun…’ Want me to keep goin’, or you got somethin’ else you’d rather jaw about? I’m all ears—well, ‘cept when I’m singin’!”
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