Nancy E. Turner Quote
To my room. Sheriff John Moultrie blew through his teeth and pursed lips, making a sound more akin to a steaming teapot than a whistle. The tune was On the Road to Alabam’, a melody he’d picked up from watching gangs of gandy dancers as a child; he’d forgotten the words, but the ditty remained part of his grain.
Nancy E. Turner
To my room. Sheriff John Moultrie blew through his teeth and pursed lips, making a sound more akin to a steaming teapot than a whistle. The tune was On the Road to Alabam’, a melody he’d picked up from watching gangs of gandy dancers as a child; he’d forgotten the words, but the ditty remained part of his grain.