I'm a mountain man, born and bred. My wife didn't do as I said so I kicked her ass out. I tain't afraid of jack diddly! You hear?! Lissenup! ---The Song of John-Boy Walton---- In the years of the Depression, In the lofty Blue Ridge Mountains, Stood the home of John-Boy Walton, Eldest boy-child of the Waltons. Proud behind it rose the mountain, Rose the fragrant honeysuckle, Rose the redbud and the dogwood; Nearby flowed the Rockfish River, Flowed the sparkling sunlit waters, Flowed the slow, strong, slate blue waters. There the lad named John-Boy Walton Spent his boyhood, free and happy; Fished for bass and carp and catfish, Hunted deer upon the mountain. Pen in hand, the young boy scribbled, Penned each moment of his boyhood; Wrote about his home and family, Of his brothers and his sisters, Of his Mama and his Daddy. Who are they, the Walton family? Living there, on Walton's Mountain? John-Boy's memories are inscribed here. Many things his Grandpa taught him, Of the green plants in the forest; Told him all the family's history, Of their history on the mountain. Grandma Walton taught young John-Boy Of the truths learned in the Bible; Taught his sisters cooking, sewing, How to smoothly run the household. Daddy Walton ran a sawmill. Mama raised her many children: John-Boy, the aspiring writer; Red-haired Jason, the musician; Family tomboy, Mary Ellen; And young Ben, so down-to-earth-like; Jim Bob, soaring with the eagles; Pretty Erin, young Elizabeth. All these children grew together, Played together, worked together. When those years had passed, this John-Boy, Oft times filled with old nostalgia, Thought about his friends and family And his home on Walton's Mountain. John-Boy, thrilling to the memories, Memories harkening back to childhood, Of the Waltons and their neighbors, Wrote their tales for all to cherish. And I think that as the sun sets Every night upon that mountain Even yet the echoes linger, Loving words, so gently spoken, Good night, John-Boy. Good night, Waltons.

Calling sinners to repent!

Stealing me some recipe, keeping my no good daughter Lois Mae in line, burning down the school house to protect the chilluns from being taught blashpemy from a heathen teacher! I'll have her job for that!